Somewhere in Midgar Two Children
by redcherryamber
Summary: Reno and Rufus are growing up in very different parts of Midgar, in very different circumstances. How will their lives become entangled?
1. Chapter 1

This is a comparison between the lives of Reno and Rufus. It starts off with them as small children, and the aim is to follow them through to adulthood. It's rated T for now - that may change as they get older ^^. Some swearing in chapters after this one, some violence.

Disclaimer - Wish I owned, but I don't.

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Somewhere in Midgar, Two Children.

Reno Six, Rufus Two

Somewhere in Sector Five, in the slums below the plate, Marnie sat on the edge of the old sagging sofa which was her son's only bed. The frozen peas she had been using to ease the swelling on his temple were slowly thawing, but her hand was already numb with the cold. She put the peas down on the floor and turned back to her son. The little boy was finally asleep, his pale face, marred by black and purple bruises, turned away towards the safety of the sofa back. Marnie reached for the fine-boned hand that rested on the worn blankets, but when she touched it the boy whimpered and pulled away, so she contented herself with stroking his fiery hair that was the same vibrant red as her own. "I have to go to work now, Reno," she whispered. "Don't worry – he won't be back tonight." Marnie hoped that was true. Usually, after one of his rages, Joe would disappear for a few days, and good riddance. He'd go and drink himself into another stupor, or get high, and find a friend or a woman to stay with for a while. When he came back he was almost always sorry. He'd apologise and smile that sweet smile that used to melt her heart, and things would be okay for a few more days or weeks. But he hadn't hit Reno before. Marnie knew she wasn't clever – Joe was always telling her that – but she knew that some things were right and some were wrong, and although she knew that _she_ provoked Joe, and that when he hit her it was usually because she'd done something stupid, he shouldn't take it out on a six year old. That wasn't right. She stood up, and straightened her skirt, and wiped her eyes. She wanted to stay with her son more than ever – to be there if he woke in the night – but she had to work, or there wouldn't be any food and the rent would go unpaid. Waitressing wasn't bad work, but it was hard on her feet after the morning shift in the factory, and she felt very tired. Marnie put on her coat, and bent to kiss her son goodbye. She hesitated for a moment, not wanting to touch the bruises in case she hurt him. Brushing his cheek with her lips, she whispered, "Sleep tight, Reno. I'll be back soon." Then she slipped out of the room, locking the door securely behind her, praying that Reno would stay asleep until at least the end of her shift, at two in the morning.

Somewhere in Sector Eight there was a gallery opening with a champagne reception waiting for her, and Lucia Shinra was not prepared to miss it simply because a recalcitrant two year old refused to sleep. She shook her head at the nanny who had appeared so inconveniently at the door of her dressing room. "I'm sorry Mizuki. Tell him – love and kisses, and mummy will see him tomorrow." She laughed a pretty, trilling laugh that was one of the reasons the most important man on the planet had fallen in love with her, and shook back her famous blonde hair. "You know I would stay if I could – but I'm the guest of honour! Without me the gallery will stay unopened. Rufus has to learn that his parents are important people – just as he will be one day. He'll manage much better if he learns that quickly." The nanny stood in the doorway still, her dark eyes lowered. "Mrs. Shinra – I think – if you could just…pop your head around the door…"

"Nonsense! That would just set him off again. No – you deal with it. I'll see him in the morning." Lucia did not raise her voice; she didn't have to. There was just enough edge in her calm tone to tell the nanny that the subject was closed. The girl nodded and said, "Yes, Mrs. Shinra." Ah – much better. Those were the words Lucia liked to hear.

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This one's a bit short - the chapters get more detailed as the boys get older.

Thanks for reading; a review would be great...


	2. Chapter 2

Time passes... Chapter warnings, a lot of swearing, violence in the Reno parts.

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Reno Nine, Rufus Five

"I'm afraid that his behaviour is just not acceptable, no matter what the provocation." The teacher was a young woman – about Marnie's own age, and she looked tired and fraught. Marnie only had a few minutes before she needed to set off for her evening shift, and she was trying to get a look at her watch without letting the teacher see what she was doing. She smiled weakly at the teacher and could think of nothing to say apart from apologising again. "At home, he's a good boy," she tried to explain. "He does what he's told, mostly. What's he been doing this time?" The teacher sighed. "It's mainly the language, I'm afraid. That and the anger. To be fair, he doesn't tend to pick fights, but as soon as anyone says or does anything he doesn't like, he lashes out. Some other parents have complained." Marnie dropped her hands into her lap and lowered her eyes. "The trouble is – I work two jobs. I can't be home much. I guess – he watches too much TV, and plays out on the street too much."

"He has to learn what is and what isn't acceptable behaviour. Some of the language he comes out with – for a nine-year old…" She shook her head. Marnie asked, "What kind of language? How bad is it?"

"It's bad. For example, he got into a fight with one of the older boys yesterday, and when the head tried to break it up he flew into a temper because he said she'd blamed him when the other boy started it. That may well have been the truth – but he put himself in the wrong by arguing, and by using abusive language to her. I've written a report for you. I'd like you to read it, and have a think about how we can work on this together. I have to say that if his behaviour continues to worsen we will have to think about asking you to find a different school for him." Marnie's pale face drained of all colour. "Please don't do that," she said. "There aren't any other schools – not that we can afford."

"That's why it's so important that we resolve this," the teacher said. Her tone was sympathetic, but there was steel behind it. "The Shin-Ra Foundation gives out these places on merit. There are plenty of other children just waiting to make the most of a chance like this."

"I know." Marnie scanned the piece of paper the teacher had given her, hoping that things weren't as bad as they sounded. She reached the sentence, "After being reprimanded for his attitude, he replied, 'Why should I listen to you? You're not listening to me, you f***ing b****'." Marnie gasped. She asked hopelessly, "He said _that_?"

"I'm afraid so. I think you need to monitor the kinds of media he's being exposed to, and the kinds of children he's mixing with on the streets. You can see why we're concerned."

"Yes. I…I'm sorry. I'll talk to him."

"If you would. In spite of his attitude, Reno's a very bright boy. He seems to learn without even trying a lot of the time. It would be a shame to waste that potential."

"Yes. Yes – I will talk to him. I'm sorry. I do have to go to work now, but I'll talk to him tomorrow as soon as he wakes up."

"Thank you. We would appreciate it. We all do want the best for Reno, you know."

Marnie made it out of the door with her head up, but she couldn't stop the tears as she walked the ten blocks to work. Reno hadn't picked up language like that from TV, or from his friends in the neighbourhood. That was what he heard his father calling _her_, almost every day of his life except when Joe was away. She knew that she was going to have to say something to Joe about it. She knew that he wasn't going to like it.

Lucia glided into her son's bedroom trailing a long fur stole and a cloud of expensive perfume. She stood in the centre of the huge room unable to help the impression she always gave of being on a stage under a spotlight. The nanny gazed at her in admiration. Lucia's cream silk evening gown was simple but beautifully cut. The diamonds around her neck glittered brilliantly. "Rufus, darling, we're ready for you," she called softly. The way she turned slightly sideways, tilted her head and bent gracefully to kiss her five-year-old son all had the air of being very slightly staged: even the way she spoke to him sounded like lines from one of her films. The little blond boy had been immaculately dressed in made-to-measure white tie. His hair was neatly cut and his pale blue eyes shone in his solemn little face as he gazed up at the exotic creature that was his mother. He held the custom-made, quarter-size violin carefully in one hand, and his mother's cool hand in the other, as she led him down the curving staircase to the ballroom where her guests were assembled. "Will father be there?" Rufus asked quietly. "Of course, darling. He adores hearing you play. If he weren't such a busy and important man he would hear you every day." Rufus nodded calmly, but he felt a rare excitement. His father! Lucia ushered him into the ballroom, and the room fell silent. Rufus saw his father standing at the far end of the room, with a group of men in dark suits. He gave a timid smile, and thought his father smiled back. Lucia led him to the raised platform where the musicians sat. Rufus spoke to the accompanist at the piano with calm authority, and the man couldn't help but be impressed by the adult manner with which the little boy checked the tuning of his violin. When he was ready Rufus turned to face his audience, as he'd been taught. Someone coughed, and the corner of the boy's mouth twitched in annoyance. Lucia waited for absolute silence, then spoke, her famous voice carrying across the crowded room perfectly, sounding unforced and yet projecting clearly. "Our son, Rufus, would like to play you a little piece he's been practising." There was a ripple of applause, then silence as Rufus raised the violin. The pianist began the accompaniment, and some eyebrows in the audience were raised as people recognised the piece, and doubted whether a five year old could possibly give a creditable performance of something so difficult. They needn't have worried. Rufus had been learning this piece for months now, and he _loved_ it. He didn't know what it was about music that made him feel this freedom, this peace, but something in the soaring notes touched his soul. At five, he had no words to express his joy in playing except 'love'. He closed his eyes as he played, feeling the notes vibrating from the strings, the bow, his fingers, and out into the air. When he had finished there was a moment of perfect stillness, and then astonished, genuine applause filled the room. Rufus gave a little bow, and when he looked up, he saw his father watching at him, smiling. President Shin-Ra nodded approval to his son from the other side of the room. Lucia kissed him, and led him back up to his nanny, to get changed and go to bed. "You did brilliantly, darling," she told him, dropping a soft kiss on the top of his head in a haze of perfume.

"Daddy liked it, didn't he?" Rufus said.

"Daddy loved it!" his mother told him. "Now, I have to go back to the important guests, and you need to get some sleep. Be good for Mizuki."

Usually Rufus chatted away to Mizuki at the end of the day, telling her about his music lessons- violin, piano and singing – his riding lessons, or martial arts training, or reading. Today he was quiet, and unusually content. Mizuki tucked him into bed with the soft plush fox toy he always needed to get to sleep. When she had left his bedside and switched off the light, and said goodnight to the guard outside the door, Rufus snuggled down under the covers hugging Foxy extra tight out of pure happiness. For many years this day would remain in his memory as the best of his life.

Reno woke with a curse and a flash of pain, as his father cuffed him on the side of the head. "Get up, you lazy little shit. I wanna watch TV." Knowing better than to argue, Reno pulled the duvet off the sofa and threw it into the corner before going to the fridge and drinking orange juice out of the carton. He looked around hopefully, but there didn't seem to be anything else for breakfast. "Where's Mom?"

"Still in bed." Joe raised his voice. "She'd better get up soon, or she'll lose her fucking JOB!" There was no response from the bedroom. Reno wandered into the bathroom and found his school shirt and trousers from the previous day still lying where he'd thrown them. He didn't know what had happened to his tie – he hadn't seen it for days. He ran his fingers through his red hair, and ran the tap so mom would think he'd washed. He found clean underwear, but no socks. As he emerged from the bathroom, doing up the four buttons that remained on his shirt, his father called, "Throw me that lighter, Reno." Reno hesitated. "At school they said smoking causes cancer," he said. "Maybe you shouldn't –"

"At school? Who gives a fuck what they tell you at school? _You_ don't for starters. Your mother told me last night that you called that stuck up cow of a head a 'fucking bitch'." Reno flushed. "Yeah," he mumbled, "Just, sorta, came out. Shouldn't a –"

"No – you're right – she is one." Reno sighed inwardly as he realised that Joe was still drunk from last night. Joe's narrow green eyes glinted dangerously as he continued, "You know, your mom seems to think they're gonna throw you out if you keep cursing." He stabbed a finger in the direction of the bedroom. "_That_ fucking bitch seems to think that _your _fucking foul mouth is _my_ fucking fault!" Reno looked towards the bedroom. "Oh shit," he said. "What did you do?"

Joe shrugged. "Nothing she didn't ask for." Reno shot a look of pure hate at the back of his father's head, and went into the bedroom, his heart beating hard. The curtains were drawn, and the room was very dark. He stumbled over something on the floor – his mother's shoes, he thought – and knelt by the bed. "Mom?"

"Reno." Her voice was a whisper. "I'm okay. I'm just not feeling too good. Can you phone the factory? Tell them I'm sick." Reno had never known his mom take a day off sick. He said, "Mom, I'm gonna open the curtains. Just a bit."

"No! No, Reno, don't. I've got such a bad headache." Reno took no notice. He pulled one curtain open a little way, and turned back to the bed, his breath catching when he saw the blood and bruising on his mother's face. "Oh – Mom! You – you need a doctor. I'll get a doctor…"

"No. Reno, it's not as bad as it looks. I'll be fine. What I want you to do is go to school. You have to keep going to school, and you have to behave there, and you have to stop swearing, because it's the only chance you have to make something better of your life than this!" Reno felt tears start in his eyes, but he blinked them away, because only fucking pansies cried – his dad had told him that from the age of two. He said, "This is all my fault. Because of what I said to Mrs. Troy."

"Not your fault, Reno. But I – I can't stand to think of you talking to a woman that way. I – I know he's your dad, but I can't stand the thought of you growing up like him, and calling women fucking bitches, and hitting out like him." Marnie began to cry softly. Reno had never seen her cry. "Mom, don't. Don't, please. I won't be like him, I promise. I'll go to school – I'll be good. I swear I won't say another bad word in school. Please be all right."

"I'll be fine. He's done worse than this – one time when you were two…Reno, please, phone work for me, and get to school."

"Not today. I'm not leaving you today."

"All right. Thanks, Renes. You go back tomorrow though, yeah?" She smiled, painfully. Reno glanced fearfully at the door. "What if he's..?" Marnie shook her head. "He's all bravado. If I know him, he'll have slunk off while you were in here. We won't see him for a while." Reno put his head cautiously round the door, but his mom was right. Joe had cleared out again. Reno squeezed his eyes shut tight and wished with everything he had, "Please don't let him come back. Please – don't let me ever see him again."

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Thanks for reading.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter warning - Reno's dad swearing again!

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Rufus Six, Reno Ten

When Rufus Shinra was six, his comfortable, secure life changed suddenly. The morning was much like any other – Mizuki got him up, and helped him dress and brushed his hair. She seemed quieter than usual, but nothing else was different until after breakfast, when she said, "Rufus, your mother wants to talk to you this morning."

"Mother?" His mother never saw him in the mornings. She had meetings, things called 'engagements' and 'functions'.

"Yes, Rufus. Come on." Mizuki held out her small, smooth hand, and Rufus took it. The Wutaian girl looked at him out of her dark eyes, with a little, tremulous smile. Without quite knowing why, Rufus began to feel alarmed. She led him along the corridor do his mother's room, and knocked on the door. Lucia Shinra called, "Come in, Mizuki." Mizuki led Rufus to his mother, who nodded her dismissal. The nanny left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Lucia looked at Rufus. He was an attractive child, she thought, with a sweet, heart-shaped face very like her own, and her large blue eyes. She hoped that he would begin to look a little more like his father as he grew older; his delicate looks were too close to being pretty for a man who would one day be president of Shin-Ra. She said, "Rufus – we're very pleased with all the hard work you've been doing with your tutors. They say that there's not much more you can learn all on your own like this – so we've decided to send you to school."

"School? I don't want to go to school! I learn everything I need to know here, don't I?"

"Not everything, darling. Your father thinks you need to learn to get on with other children – make some proper friends."

"But – I have you, and daddy, and Mizuki."

"Yes. Well, that's part of the problem. You see Rufus, nannies are really just for little children. You need to see how things work in the real world. I went to school, you know, and your father did."

"But – what about my music? Will they let me practise enough?"

"Yes, darling. Only – you mustn't get too attached to your music, Rufus."

"But it's what I want to do! Mr. Giarelli said I could be a violinist _or_ a concert pianist – he said I was talented!"

"And you _are_. Perhaps…perhaps _too_ talented, Rufus. I don't know if anyone's told you this – but I used to be an actress before I married your father."

"Yes. Mizuki said you were famous. She said you were a great film-star."

"That's right. But being the wife of President Shin-Ra – that's a job all on its own. And so is being his son. One day you will run the company. You won't have much time to pursue your hobbies."

"But I want – I need – You don't understand! I _love_ music. I won't stop!" Lucia sighed. This wasn't going as she had planned. "Rufus, no-one's asking you to stop. It's just that you need to realise that your _job_ won't be music." Rufus made no reply. His mouth was a stubborn line, but Lucia thought she saw his bottom lip tremble. "Now Rufus. Whatever else, remember this: no-one ever sees a Shinra cry. Our family is the most powerful one on the planet. None of the leaders and politicians does anything without consulting your father. Listen, Rufus: when you grow up you will effectively rule the world."

"Good," said Rufus Shinra. "Then I can tell people to do exactly what I like?"

"Yes, darling."

"So - I'll tell them to let me play my music, and I'll tell someone else to run the Shin-Ra Electric Power Company for me!" Lucia smiled, and decided not to continue the conversation. She said, "You'll be starting school in the morning. There will only be four other children in your class – all boys. Mizuki will get you ready, and you'll go by car. I expect at least one of the Turks will go with you." Rufus felt a prickle of excitement at that. He loved going out in the car and it was a very rare event because all his tutors, his tailor, even his dentist, came to the Shinra town residence when they were in Midgar, or to the mansion when they were in the country. The sharply turned out Turks in their dark blue suits had been a presence in his life for as long as he could remember, quiet and watchful and reassuring. His mother had told him that they were there to keep him safe – it had never occurred to him to wonder why he would need such protection. He was a Shinra, and as far as he was concerned at six, there was no other kind of life.

The next morning Mizuki woke Rufus early, and they ate breakfast together. Rufus thought that Mizuki looked sad, but when he asked her she only said that she would miss him while he was at school. After breakfast, she helped him dress in the new uniform that had appeared in his wardrobe over night, and he was pleased to see that it consisted of a dark blue blazer and trousers, a white shirt and a grey and red striped tie. "I'll look like one of the Turks," he said happily. Mizuki looked startled. "The Turks are your father's bodyguards – among other things," she said quietly. "You will always be superior to them. You have a greater destiny." Mizuki sighed. "I hope – you will remember – ordinary people, like me, when you are the President of Shin-Ra."

"I will," replied Rufus carelessly. He looked at himself in the mirror, dressed in the new uniform, with new shoes and a new school bag. He considered his reflection critically. "I like the uniform," he said. "I think I'm ready." Mizuki smiled at him. "The car's waiting. I'll come down with you." Outside the bedroom door waited the Turk called Veld – someone Rufus knew was important in Shin-Ra. The tall man said nothing, but walked behind Mizuki and Rufus as they made their way down the curving staircase, through the entrance hall, and into the lobby. Then Veld moved past them, and Rufus saw that he was holding a gun. "Say goodbye, now," he said to Mizuki. She knelt down and hugged Rufus. He said, "I'll see you tonight, Zuki. I'll tell you all about school."

"You be a good boy. Have a lovely time. Remember…me." Rufus felt that Mizuki was making rather a fuss about one day at school, but he was too excited to think much of it. "Bye, Zuki," he said, waving a casual hand. She stood and brushed down her skirt. She watched as Veld returned from making his security checks and escorted Rufus quickly through the front doors straight into the white bulletproof limousine. She watched as the car pulled away. Then she turned and walked back to her room – the little bedroom next to Rufus's where she had slept every day for the last six and a half years, since the night he was born. On her way back up the stairs she brushed away a few tears, then told herself that she was lucky – lucky to have got this job – lucky to have been given such a generous final payment and such good references that she would be able to get a job with any other wealthy family in an instant. Which aspiring Shin-Ra executive would not want to employ the nanny who had brought up the President's son? But this had been her first long-term job, and she had not been prepared for the way Rufus had grown into her heart as the years had passed. The triumphs that should have been his parents' - his first steps, first words, the day he learned to draw an "R" in red crayon – those had all been hers. Mizuki wished she had been allowed to say goodbye properly, but it had been made clear that the boy was not to know that he was being sent away to school. Lucia hadn't wanted him to make a fuss. Mizuki hoped he would understand the note she had written, folded into one of the tiny origami birds he liked her to make for him and hidden, with Foxy, in a place she thought he would find before the staff did. There was no point hiding anything in a suitcase –members of the Shinra family did not pack and unpack their own clothes. She hoped that the toy and the note would be enough to help him through the first night. Mizuki took a last look at Rufus's empty room. She pulled the duvet straight on his bed, although she knew that the staff would come in later and strip it. Sighing, she returned to her own room to pack.

Rufus watched with interest as Midgar slid past the tinted windows of the limousine. Veld sat beside him – an imposing but reassuring presence. He said little, and Rufus was rather in awe of his stern, high-browed, bearded face and serious demeanour, but he remembered Mizuki's words about his destiny being greater than the Turks' and so he sat up a little straighter on his booster seat, and tried to look important. After a while the streets of Midgar gave way to a wide, almost empty highway, which cut straight through a dusty desert landscape. Rufus asked, "Isn't my school in Midgar, then?"

"Outside Midgar. In the mountains."

"Oh!" Rufus thought a little, then asked, "Will it take long to get there?"

"A little while." Veld glanced sideways at Rufus, sitting so solemnly beside him, and saw the boy beginning to put two and two together. Rufus had all his mother's delicate beauty, but he clearly had his father's intelligence. Veld thought of his own little daughter, Felicia, and knew he would never send her away to school like this. "Poor kid," he thought. "Let's hope he gets through it okay." Rufus's voice was low as he asked, "So…I won't be able to go to school and back like this every day?"

"No. It's a boarding school. You'll come home in the holidays." Veld stared ahead as he told Rufus what his mother and father had failed to do. He suspected that Lucia was afraid of the emotions involved – she saw Rufus as an extension of her own fabricated persona – the ideal son of an ideal mother – another role. She loved drama, but not scenes that proved awkward or unmanageable. The president – well. Either he just didn't care, or he was too busy to worry about trivialities such as talking to his son. Rufus took in Veld's confirmation of his sudden suspicions. He turned his face away from the Turk, looking out of the window while he composed himself. So – that was why Mizuki had said "remember me". Did that mean she wouldn't be there when he returned home in the holidays? If so, who would look after him? Rufus wanted to cry, but Veld was not a Shinra, and no Shinra could cry in front of a Turk. Taking a long, shallow breath, Rufus faced forward and asked, "How long will I be going to school for?"

"Until the holidays – in eight weeks." Rufus shook his head impatiently. "No, no. How long all together? At what age do I leave?"

"Well, normally you'd take your first exams at fourteen, and then go on to advanced qualifications. But I believe your father intends you to become a part of the company at fourteen, and continue your education as you work."

"Eight years, then."

"Yes. Eight years."

"I see." The little boy said nothing more until the car came to a stop at the security checkpoint outside the high stone walls of the school. Rufus was not really surprised to see the Shin-Ra logo emblazoned on the uniforms of the armed guards who saluted as they drove through the gate. "What is this school called?" Rufus asked Veld. "The Shin-Ra Elite Academy," Veld replied. Rufus smiled with terrible cynicism for so young a child. "Of course it is," he said. "I should have guessed, really."

Reno was learning that there wasn't any point wishing. His father stayed away for a couple of weeks, then came back just after dark, drunk and shouting up at the windows for Marnie to forgive him. Reno begged her not to let him in, grabbed her arm, tried to reason with her, but she had just smiled sadly and said, "Reno, he's still your father. I still love him."

"How can you? After what he's done!"

"He doesn't mean it. It's just – this life…I…need him, Reno."

"I don't get it. He hurt you so bad. How can you even think of letting him back in here?" Marnie sighed. "Renes – one day you'll meet a girl, and if it's the right one, you'll understand. Your dad's not well."

"He's a drunk."

"Yes. And that's an illness. He needs me. And I can do it, Reno. I can work, and hold it together, and maybe things will get better. But you have to help me. You have to be good at school, like we said."

"I am. I haven't been in trouble since…that night."

"Good boy. You know I love you, Renes?" Reno looked at the floor. "Yeah. I – ah – me too, Mom." He gave it one more try. "Do you have to let him in?" Marnie nodded. "I do." She went to the window and called down wearily, "Joe! Quit yelling. Come on up." Reno paced around the apartment like a trapped animal, but he had no room to go to. In the end he waited in the kitchenette while his father came in and slumped down on the sofa. Joe was wearing the self-satisfied smile of someone who'd got his own way, and knew he always would. He called, "Reno – throw me a can!" Reno slammed the door behind him, and escaped into the night.

The next year followed the old, tired pattern. Joe would try for a few weeks, then get angry and lash out, although never with the violence of _that_ night. Usually his attacks were directed at Marnie, but as the months went by he began to pick on Reno more often. Marnie had saved a few Gil each week for nearly a year, and on his tenth birthday she had given Reno a black skateboard with a red dragon curling along the underside of the deck from nose to tail. The grip tape was decorated with curved red lines like claws. Reno thought it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He'd thrown his arms around his mom with the wild enthusiasm she loved about him, and rushed out to try it and to impress the other boys on the block. He'd always been good on a skateboard – had natural balance and agility - was fearlessness enough to try anything – and he'd had plenty of practice by begging, borrowing or occasionally stealing goes on other people's boards. But this was his own, and it wasn't second hand, or stolen, or bought from one of the sketchy guys who hung about round the markets fencing stuff for drug money. This was new, and clean and perfect. Reno couldn't ever remember feeling so damned happy.

The feeling lasted all day, until he came in after dark, his red hair all over the place, his eyes shining. "Mom, it's just…so...!" he lapsed into inarticulate wonder, shaking his head happily. Marnie smiled. "I'm glad you like it. Joe looked up from his usual position on the sofa. He took a long drag on his cigarette and said, "Yeah, happy birthday Reno." Reno was instantly wary. He bent to slide the board under the sofa figuring 'out of sight out of mind', and murmured, "Thanks." The devil flashed in Joe's green eyes. "Don't look away when I'm fucking talking to you." Marnie said, "Joe…" and he turned on her. "What?" he asked, his voice dangerous. "Is it too much to expect a little respect from my own fucking son?" Marnie gave a fragile smile and said, "Of course not Joe, but it's his birthday. And I got us pizza!" She indicated the boxes balanced on top of the microwave. She opened the fridge and handed Joe a beer, opening the can for him. "Just let me serve up the pizza. Let's all have a nice evening, huh, Joe?" She leaned down and kissed Joe, and said something that included the word _later_. Reno couldn't look at them. He felt rage swelling tight in his chest threatening to explode out in a wave of violence that would drown them all. He couldn't stand it – just couldn't bear to see his mom – who _did _everything – who _was _everything – having to tiptoe around that – _fucking son of a bitch_ – just so they could eat some _fucking_ pizza without either of them getting hit. But if Reno let anything out it wasn't Joe who would get hurt. He swallowed down his fury, and then he forced down some pizza too, because his mom had bought it and it was meant to be a treat. Later he locked himself in the bathroom and threw up quietly, and told himself that your eyes always watered like this when you puked. He splashed cold water on his face and cleaned his teeth. Then he looked up into the mirror and saw the face of a helpless, scared kid he didn't want to know. He felt tears starting again and hated himself. Reno leant his elbows on the sink and pressed his fingers against his temples as though he could physically hold himself together. The nails of his index fingers dug in hard. The pain steadied him. He met his own gaze in the mirror again, and watched himself dragging his nails down along his cheekbones, scratching deep, drawing a little blood. He gasped with the pain, but it felt – better. It was a kind of easing; a kind of release. Twin red lines along his cheekbones, like curved dragon claws. Reno looked at his reflection, and recognised himself.

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Thanks for reading.


	4. Chapter 4

Thank you so much to my first ever reviewer, Athenaion. Here's the update. From now on more's happening, so the Rufus Reno chapters will alternate. No warnings for this chapter except Rufus being precocious.

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Rufus, Six, at School

There were four other boys in Rufus's class, and he didn't think he was going to like any of them. They were all the sons of Midgar high society –Mayor Domino's twin boys Sacha and Seb, Dominic, the sulky son of some high-ranking Shin-Ra executive, and Frederick Haughley-Something whose parents were connected to the diamond trade. Sacha and Seb probably needed no-one but each other, Freddy was amiable but incredibly stupid, and Dominic was sneering and sarcastic. Since it was his first day Rufus tried to be polite. Sacha and Seb shook his hand formally, told him their names and ran away. Frederick "call me Freddy" Haughley-whatever grinned and said, "Good to meet you. You're the Shin-Ra president's son, aren't you? Cool!" Dominic looked him up and down and commented, "You're small for your age, aren't you?" Rufus disliked his tone. "What's that got to do with anything?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just saying."

"Well, don't."

"Or what?"

Rufus had no idea what to make of that reply. No-one had ever challenged him before. "What do you mean?" he asked. Dominic laughed. "You're stupid!"

"I am not!" Rufus was more astonished than angry. Dominic poked him in the chest. "You're small, and you're dumb."

"Do you want me to fight you?" asked Rufus, understanding beginning to dawn. "You can _try_," sneered Dominic. "Okay," Rufus shrugged. He rolled up his sleeves and assumed a confident right stance, fists raised. Dominic launched himself at the smaller boy. Freddy hovered at a distance saying, "Cool it guys! Calm down, Dom!" Rufus ducked Dominic's wild punch, grabbed his arm as he had been taught, and rolled him onto his back. The bigger boy went down hard, and lay on the floor panting for a moment before struggling to his feet and trying again. This time Rufus landed a left hook and Dominic staggered back clutching his cheek and howling. "It's not fair!" he yelled. "You've learned that Wutaian martial arts crap or something!" Rufus glared at him. "You said you wanted a fight."

"Yeah, but…"

"What? You only wanted a fight you could win?" Dominic said nothing, just sulked. "If you want to win fights, fight someone else," Rufus told him. He left Dominic scowling and went to his room. Staff had unpacked everything, and Rufus sat on the bed and wondered what to do. There was only one thing he _wanted_ to do, so he set up his music stand and opened his violin case. As he took out the instrument he found Foxy squashed in underneath, and one of Mizuki's little birds. The bird had writing on it. Carefully, Rufus unfolded the origami crane. Mizuki had written, "Sorry I couldn't tell you. I will always remember you, Rufus. Love, from Zuki." There were three Xs under her name. He wondered what those meant. He held Foxy against his cheek for a moment and stroked his soft tail. Then he hid the toy under his pillow, refolded the bird and slipped it back into the violin case where no-one would find it, and took out the violin. As he tightened the bow and stroked the rosin along it, he felt like crying. Instead he concentrated on the instrument, tuning it by ear thanks to his perfect pitch, and feeling the vibrations sooth him almost at once. He wanted a piano in the room. He would ask someone about that after he'd practised. He didn't rush the tuning, wanting everything right. When he was ready, he settled the sheet music on the stand and began to play, frowning in concentration at first. This was a new piece, and Mr. Giarelli had told him it was difficult but worth the hard work. He wondered what the music teachers would be like here. Then he found the rhythm of the piece, and began to understand it, and to see why Mr. Giarelli thought it was beautiful. After that he thought about nothing but music for hours. It was growing dark outside, and Rufus hadn't eaten anything since arriving, but he hadn't noticed the dimming light or his hunger until he found he couldn't read the notes on the stave. As he went to switch on the lights there was a knock at the door. He opened it, cross at the interruption. One of the twins stood there – he couldn't tell which one. "Rufus – the house master sent me to get you for dinner." The dark-haired boy peered into Rufus's room. "What have you been doing all this time?"

"Practising, of course," said Rufus, nodding towards the music stand and the violin on the bed. "Wait a minute. I'll just put this away." Carefully he packed away the violin and the bow, and the twin looked anxious. "We'd better not be late."

"Are you Seb or Sacha?" Rufus asked.

"Seb."

"How can I tell?" Normally Seb might have tried to trick a new boy, pretend to be Sacha just for the fun of causing confusion, but something about Rufus's serious manner told him that might not be a good idea. He said, "I have a scar, here, above my eye. Look." Rufus looked and nodded gravely. "Thank you," he said politely. "That's helpful." Without further comment he followed Seb Domino down to dinner. Before the meal started the head asked Rufus to stand up. He did so without embarrassment – he was a Shinra: of course everyone had to be introduced to him. The head addressed the assembled school – about thirty boys whose parents controlled most of the world between them, and twelve teachers – all men. "Please welcome our newest member, Rufus Shinra." Everyone looked at him, and he nodded formally and said, "Thank you. It's a pleasure to be here." There was polite applause and it seemed that was all that was required. While the boys ate, Seb Domino asked him questions cheerfully and Sacha occasionally chimed in. Rufus decided that the twins weren't too bad. He began to think he could manage school quite well, as long as no-one was going to be difficult about music.

After dinner the head asked Rufus to come to his office. Rufus sat upright in the leather chair and regarded the man calmly. The head was a lean, large man with broad shoulders - bald, and serious looking, with heavy, dark eyebrows and grey eyes. When he spoke his voice was measured and steady, but Rufus sensed that he was nervous. "Rufus. It's an honour to have you here."

"Thank you, Sir."

"I hope your time here will be happy."

"It will – as long as I am allowed to practise my music enough. I'm going to need a piano."

"A – piano?"

"Yes. I'm sure my father will pay for it. I need a piano."

"We have pianos in the music room and the practice rooms." Rufus looked at the head pityingly. "Yes, I'm sure," he said. "But I need a proper piano."

"Well – why don't I introduce you to the music master, and he can show you the pianos we have here, and if you like one of them I'm sure we can have it moved into your room." Rufus barely concealed an irritated sigh. "All right," he said, with forced politeness, "Thank you." He looked at the head expectantly. "Oh," said the head. "You mean, now?" Rufus was beginning to think the man was an idiot, but he remembered what his mother had told him about dignified behaviour in front of inferiors. "If you don't mind," he said. The head picked up the phone, feeling trapped by the steady blue gaze of the angelic-looking six -year old sitting in front of him.

The music master, Mr. Lloyd, was a small, dark man of about forty. He opened the door of the music room with a little flourish, but the boy did not seem unduly impressed. "I like the space," he commented. "That's the only piano in here?"

"Yes. It's a Aspani grand."

"Hmm. I find Aspanis a little over bright, usually." Rufus shrugged. "Of course, it's a matter of taste." He went to the instrument, lowered the stool and sat down, ready to play. Lloyd turned away to conceal a smile. The child behaved like a professional musician with a serious case of artistic temperament. Well, President Shinra's son had doubtless been so mollycoddled and over-praised all his young life that he was bound to consider himself some kind of musical prodigy. Look at the way he sat – the way his fingers hovered over the keys as if he were about to play a concerto to a packed auditorium! He played the famous opening five chords of Tsai's Sea Concerto, and the teacher almost laughed aloud. Who had taught him that trick? Then he played the opening bars. And continued. The teacher's smile faded. But surely – he had been taught to play mechanically – he was a performing monkey – because no child his age…The music master gazed at Rufus's rapt face in astonishment. The boy's eyes were closed, and it was clear that he knew this music, understood it, loved it. Some of the chords were too great a stretch for his hands, and he either chose what seemed the salient notes or occasionally split the chord. Other than that and the slight difficulty he had reaching the sustain pedal, his playing was flawless. He finished the first movement and opened his eyes. Lloyd was about to speak, but Rufus played a few bars again, listening intently. "It's a good piano," he said. "Better than I expected. But listen…" He played three bars. "Just too…"

"Bright?" suggested the dumbfounded music teacher, remembering Rufus' earlier judgement on Aspani pianos. Rufus looked at him as if he were insane. "No! Too hard. Too…oh, I hate it when I don't know the words for things. Too like something hitting metal – like a …a…very quiet crash. I can't work with it." The teacher shook his head. "This is our best piano. But if you want to try the others…"

"Yes, please." The teacher led Rufus to the practice rooms, and watched and listened, enthralled, as the boy tried each instrument in turn. The first piano was dismissed after a few bars with a wince and a damning, "It would still be awful, even if it were in tune!" The second and third lasted scarcely any longer, but the fourth seemed to please him. He played three Breamann preludes one after the other and then looked at the teacher. "_This_ is your best piano." Then he sighed. "But it's still not right. Not quite. It has a lovely tone, quite…beautiful…but it's too…closed in. The sound can't escape it enough, you know?" The music master shook his head. He could hear that this piano was far superior to the others, and it amazed him that he'd never noticed it before, but the exact quality that troubled the boy eluded him. He said, "I think we'd better contact your father and set about finding you an instrument you can…work with." Rufus Shinra smiled at him, and said, "Thank you. I knew _you'd_ understand. I'll use this one until I can find the right one of my own."

"Shall I have it sent to your room?" Rufus was about to agree, but then he shook his head. His father had wanted him to get on with other children. How would they feel if he took the only decent piano in the school? "No – the others need to be able to use it too. I'll come here." The music master smiled a little sadly. "That's kind," he said. He didn't add, "But pointless. Apart from Sacha Domino, there's not another boy in the school with a scrap of real musical talent." Rufus was looking at him earnestly again. "Now, about lessons. How do lessons fit in around all the other school work?"

"Well, most of the boys who take lessons have them twice a week for half an hour," began the master. Rufus stared at him. "But that's nothing! How do they _learn_?"

"It's usual."

"But not me! I can't learn anything in that time!"

"No Rufus. I think you'll be a special case. I'll have to discuss this with the head. You go off to bed now. You'll be starting normal lessons tomorrow." Rufus nodded. "Yes, Sir," he said. Lloyd watched him closing the piano carefully. When the boy was gone, he sighed. The first really talented pupil he had ever had was the son of the de facto ruler of the planet. He doubted very much that music would figure heavily in the boy's adult life. Feeling disorientated, he went to explain matters to the head.

In bed, Rufus took Foxy from under the pillow and held him tight, the soft fur of the toy's tail against his cheek. He thought that school would be bearable. The music master seemed to understand him, and he was sure that the head would arrange things as he desired. It wasn't very different from home really. Except – Mizuki. He whispered, "Goodnight Zuki. I'm all right here. I'll write to you tomorrow. Love, from Rufus."

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Thanks for reading. Please review?


	5. Chapter 5

This is Reno's story - but who's that in the limo? Reno and Rufus finally meet - sort of... Chapter warnings: it's Reno. There's bad language.

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Reno, Eleven.

In spite of all his unpredictability and violence, it wasn't Joe who killed Marnie – not directly, at least. He was out, drinking somewhere, chatting up the pretty dark-haired barmaid in a cheap Sector Five slum bar. Reno was out until late, too, impressing the other boys on the skateboard that seemed to have become almost a part of him over the last year and a half. There were two slightly older girls who hung out with the boys from Reno's block. They couldn't skate. They didn't really do anything except hang about and watch and look bored and unimpressed. They were always there though, and lately Reno had noticed the smaller one – a pale, dark-eyed girl with long black hair. He noticed her because she kept watching him. He didn't care – girls were pointless in his world – but it was fun sometimes to nail some complicated flip and catch her looking interested for a second, before her mask of boredom dropped back into place. He would grin at her, and she would shrug.

That night it was hot and airless in the streets under the plate. Reno and two of the other boys were messing around by the steps they used to practice jumps down. The handrail had been ground bright silver along the top and sides; most of the paint had been stripped by Reno's trucks. The two girls were watching as usual, sitting on a low wall some distance away, pretending to be talking about something important. Their eyes would slide towards the boys and away. They would toss their hair, and whisper. Reno mostly ignored them – but – that little dark girl – he could feel her eyes on him, and tonight it made him feel – weird. Restless. He didn't look at her. It didn't help. One of the other boys showed him a new trick, and he concentrated on perfecting it. It took a while and when he looked up the girls had gone. He felt disappointed, and stupid for minding. Eventually the boys drifted home. Reno stayed for a while, just doing kick flips. He wondered how late it was. It didn't matter – his mom was at work, and his dad…well, his dad couldn't stay away long enough for Reno's liking. Eventually he headed home. He liked the approach to his building, especially at this time of night. The street was empty of people – full of litter and broken metal and junk – but no passersby. Music and shouts and laughter drifted down from open windows. The road sloped down hill here, and was metalled for almost all its length. Reno knew every crack and pothole, and he rode the board lazily all the way home, loving the glide of it, the rumble of the wheels on tarmac, the freedom. When he reached the peeling door of his building he was surprised to see the dark girl sitting there, minus her taller friend. The girl looked at him. "Hi," she said.

"Hey."

"You're Reno, aren't you?"

"Who's askin' yo?"

"I'm Jess."

"Hey Jess." The girl smiled, vaguely. She gestured towards the skateboard. "I…like the way you do that."

"Thanks."

Jess stood up and pulled her dress straight. She waved a pale hand, casually. "I have to be home. See you, Reno."

"Yeah." He watched her walk away, her long hair swinging loose down her back. He felt - something – that made him want to burn energy. He took his board and ran all the way up to the fourth floor, then skated the long corridor to the door of his apartment, finishing with a double kick flip that he landed clean. One of the neighbours cursed at the noise the board made, but Reno didn't care. He let himself into the apartment, pushed the board under the sofa, grabbed the carton of juice from the fridge and put the TV on - loud.

After a while, Reno found his school bag in the corner and pulled out a chewed pen. He had homework, and he'd promised Mom he'd do it, so he did it. Ever since the night Joe had hurt her so badly, Reno had kept his promise to his mom to behave at school, to make the most of his chances. He did the algebra quickly, because Math was easy and he didn't have to think, but the literature was a nightmare. He had to write a fucking poem on the theme of 'being free'. They'd been reading this – play – or whatever – in class, and the teacher had read out a long passage about some guy in prison, looking at this bit of sky, and wanting to be free like some dumb bird he could see. Then they'd all had to go to the library and find poems about freedom to read out. Reno reckoned he'd got out of that pretty lightly, because he'd discovered a page of really short poems – more like sentences – by some Wutaian guy, and one of them had been about birds and had the word freedom in it, so he'd read it out, half expecting to be in trouble for taking the piss, but – turned out – his teacher was a sucker for shit like that, and she'd raved on about how this guy was a famous poet, and how the poem Reno had found just _encapsulated_ the idea of freedom – and then she'd told them that the poems were called Ruki, and now they all had to write one for homework and guess who everyone was blaming for that? Reno watched some more TV, and chewed his pen, and wondered what the fuck to write. He tore a page from the middle of his Math exercise book, and wrote 'freedom' at the top. Then he doodled a dragon, like the one on his board. He thought about the girl – Jess – and the way her hair had swung, soft-looking and heavy down her back. Free. Yeah, and he could imagine what the boys in his class would say if he wrote a poem about a girl's hair! He tried to remember the poem from the book – something about wild geese flying north, writing freedom on the white sky. Huh? Reno couldn't remember ever seeing the sky. His mom said they'd all gone to the seaside once, years ago, when he was three. He couldn't remember. He wasn't sure he knew what a goose looked like, either. He'd seen the sky on TV of course, but it was usually blue, not white. And those must have been some damned aerobatic geese! He laughed at that thought, because he really understood the metaphor perfectly well, but he'd die rather than admit it in class. Birds, like inky writing on sky-paper - he could imagine that from what he'd seen on TV. He wrote, "My fucking dad slams the fucking door behind him. Freedom." Then he crossed it out until it was obliterated by hard, scored lines of black ink. He wrote "Poems suck, so set me free, and don't go wanting one from me". Then he crossed that out too, less violently. He doodled himself on his board, miles above the ground. He wrote, "Red dragon on my deck. I make it fly." He went to cross that out, then decided not to. It probably sucked, but it was true. Reno finished the juice in the carton. What time was it? It felt late. Reno went into the bedroom and looked at his mom's alarm clock. It was gone three. Mom was never this late. Never. Reno began to feel scared. He called her phone. Voice mail. Reno paced the sitting room nervously. He called her phone again. No answer. Reno pulled on a dark green top with a hood that would help to hide his age, and extracted his skateboard from under the sofa. At the last minute he decided to take a knife from the kitchen drawer. It wasn't very sharp, but it made him feel better. Tucking the knife into his sleeve, Reno locked the apartment behind him and ran down the stairs, light and silent, carrying his board. He walked the route she would take to work, but there was no sign of her. As soon as he was clear of the residential buildings, Reno skated. He reached the bar where she worked, and went in, putting down his hood in deference to the sign, which read, "no hats, hoods or scarves may be worn." A heavily built man behind the bar said, "Hey, kid, you can't come in here."

"I'm looking for my mom – Marnie?"

"You're Marnie's boy, Red? Yeah – can tell by the hair."

"Did she work late?"

"No – she left at one-thirty, same as usual. Why, what's up?"

"She's not back."

"She's probably met a friend – gone for a drink."

"She doesn't do that. She's always home by two." The barman sighed. "Kid, Marnie's a good worker, and she's steady. She won't come to any harm. Go home – she's probably already there. Here…" he scribbled down a number. "Go home. If she's not back in a couple of hours, call me."

"But –"

"Go on kid. Your mom's fine. Trust me."

Reno didn't know what else to do, so he went home. As he reached the apartment he saw a long, low car parked outside – the sort of car you'd see on TV programmes set on the plate. A tall, lean man with close-cropped blond hair stood by the open front passenger door looking up at the building. He wore a dark suit, light shirt, dark tie. He looked calm. Reno was about to duck back into the shadows when the man glanced over and saw him. "Hey, kid," he called. "Do you know a Reno?" Reno's heart thumped hard in his chest, but he said, "Maybe. Who's asking?"

"Get in the car kid."

"No fucking way!" Reno gripped his board tight. He could run. If the man wasn't armed.

"We're not going to hurt you. This is about your mom."

"Mom?" Reno hesitated between the desire to run and the need to find out if the man really did know something about his mom. A hard voice from inside the car growled, "We don't have time for this. Either pick the kid up, or leave him and let's go. This isn't our business." The blond man said, "Reno, your mom's in the hospital – on the plate. She was hurt on the way home from work. She asked us to bring you to her." Reno said, "How do I know that's true? Maybe you just –just say that stuff – to get boys in your car, 'cause you're a fucking paedo."

"What can I say? You're right – I could be. We have to go. We'll take you to her, if you want. Your call." Reno was used to trusting his instincts. He walked slowly towards the car. "All right," he said. "But don't try anything." He felt the knife, hard against the skin of his left arm. The blond man held open the back door of the car for him, and he got in. The driver turned to look at him. He was a dark, bearded man with a stern face. "I'm Veld," he said. "I'm part of Shin-Ra's Department of Administrative Research." Reno blanched. "Sh – Shin-Ra?"

"Don't worry. We came across your mother by chance."

"What happened to her? Is she okay?"

"She will be. She was attacked by two men. We happened to be passing."

"Did – did you catch the bastards?"

"They…have been neutralized." Reno felt his heart lurch and his blood turn icy in his veins. "N – neutralized, as in, _killed_?" he stammered. The blond man smiled grimly. "The Turks' justice is swift," he said. Oh shit. They were fucking _Turks_. But – they had killed the men who had attacked his mom. Reno asked, "And she's all right?"

"Yes. Luckily, we arrived before –" The two men looked at each other. "Before things got too nasty," Veld finished.

"Thank you," said Reno, sincerely. Veld gave him a calm, appraising look. "That's okay kid," he said. "It's a pleasure." Reno wasn't sure he wanted to know which part had been a pleasure, but he wasn't about to antagonise Shin-Ra Turks by asking. After a while a thought struck him. "Uh, Mr. Veld?"

"Yes?"

"You know we don't have insurance, right?"

"Don't worry. That's taken care of." The car had been slowly ascending the main road – the one good road that ran through the slums – which terminated abruptly at one of the gigantic elevators that linked the slums with the plate above. The Shin-Ra car drove right in. Reno's eyes were wide open, taking everything in. He was going to see the plate! If they let him stay all night, he would see the sky in the morning! He watched the doors of the elevator open and the sleek black car rolled out into a different world.

The first thing Reno noticed was the streets. The roads were wide and smooth, with painted markings. The slick black surface shone oily-sleek beneath the gleam of electric lamps that were set at regular intervals along the neatly -kerbed sidewalks. There were people walking alone or in small groups, all seemingly at ease even at four in the morning and all dressed like the fashion adverts you saw on TV. The buildings were regular, and lit, and all along the streets were shops selling unimaginable luxuries. Reno saw one shop that seemed to sell nothing but sports gear, and another whose windows displayed row upon row of huge TVs – all on, showing different programmes. In the slums most goods were traded from market stalls, and the few general stores sold everything from food to electrical equipment to clothes and furniture. Things below the plate were usually cobbled together, or reconditioned, or second-hand. Everything here seemed brand new. When the car stopped outside a gleaming white building Reno's first impression was of overwhelming brightness. The hospital was shining – every window blazed – the huge sign reading _Sector Five General Hospital_ glowed with vivid green light. Veld said, "Your Mom's on level five. Lex will take you up, then we have to go. You can stay here, with your mom, until she's discharged. You can go home by train – security has been advised."

"Thank you, Mr. Veld." Veld looked at Reno, considering. "We called up your ID. You're a smart kid. You know, Shin-Ra's always looking for bright recruits, no matter where they come from. You're ever interested – contact me."

"Uh – thanks, Sir." Reno didn't know what to think of that. Was Veld serious, or just being kind? The blond man called Lex said, "Come on, kid, let's go. Oh, but before we do, you'd better give me the blade. Hospital security won't like that at all." Reno stared at him, half annoyed, half impressed. "How did you know?" Lex smiled. "Observation. It's part of what I do. You did a good job though – I wasn't sure for a while. But it's the way you hold your arm." Reno extracted the knife from his sleeve and handed it to Lex, who left it on the leather seat. Reno grabbed his skateboard, climbed quickly out of the car, and followed him into the hospital. The entrance lobby was the largest, cleanest room Reno had ever seen. He thought of the crowded, damp-smelling waiting room at the local doctor's in the slums where he had spent three hours fidgeting anxiously before the harassed-looking doctor had given him a prescription for painkillers for his mom that they had not been able to afford. By contrast the vast area in which he now stood contained a few rows of comfortable chairs, of which two were occupied. Lex led the way to an elevator, which was as pristine as the lobby. Music was playing – inside the fucking elevator! Reno smiled and said, "What's up with that?"

"I'm sorry?" Lex enquired politely. Reno shook his head. "Nothing. It's just – music. In an elevator?"

"Yes. I supposed it must seem – strange."

"Weird, yo," Reno agreed. The elevator stopped smoothly, and Reno followed Lex along a white corridor with low, soothing lights, and into a small room. Marnie lay on a bed that was all white and silver. Someone had dressed her in a silver-grey robe, and there was a tube going into her left arm. Her face was very pale, and against all that white and silver and grey, her hair was shockingly bright red. So were the four lines scratched into her cheek. There were bandages around her right arm, which was lying on top of the white bed linen. She looked strange and fragile lying there, but when she saw Reno she smiled, and her smile was the same beautiful one he knew. "Mom! Are you all right?"

"Reno! I was so worried. Yes, I'm fine now." She looked up at Lex, her expression an odd mix of gratitude and wariness. "Thank you for everything," she said.

"It's a pleasure, Ma'am. Your boy had gone to look for you. He's a brave one."

"Yes. He's a good boy."

"The doctors will look after you from now on." Lex looked down at Reno and winked. "Take care, kid." Then he walked away. Reno held his mom's hand carefully. "Are you really okay? What happened?"

"Just some stupid, drunken men. They thought I was –" Marnie stopped abruptly, then said, "They thought I was someone else."

"It's lucky the Turks were passing." Reno's eyes were shining with excitement. "Mr. Veld said, if I ever wanted to work for Shin-Ra, I should get in touch!" Marnie's face became very still. "Well – it's good he was impressed by you, Reno," she said slowly. "But – the Turks – Shin-Ra – big organisations like that are full of violent men. They saved me, it's true, but – I don't like to think about what they did to the men who attacked me…"

"Oh, it's okay," Reno said, misunderstanding her tone, "They killed them." Marnie shook her head, and winced at the pain caused by the movement. "Reno, that's not okay. That's what I mean by violent men. They should have arrested them – sent them for a trial…"

"No way! They attacked you – they might've killed you! I'm glad they're dead."

"That's natural. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't glad, too. But that doesn't make it right, Renes." Marnie wished she were clever. She wished she could explain to Reno why it was wrong, but she could see he was still spell-bound by the glamour of the Turks, and she was too tired to argue the point now. She said, "You went to look for me?"

"Yeah. When you weren't back, I was worried."

"That was brave, Reno." Marnie shuddered inside to think what he might have found if the Turks hadn't driven past when they did. A young doctor appeared and said softly, "Well, young man, you've had a busy night. We've set up a bed for you in the next room. You get some sleep now, while I check up on your mom, and you'll find she's much better in the morning." Reno nodded, and kissed his mom's undamaged cheek. Marnie smiled. "Go on, Renes," she said softly. "Sleep now. I'll see you in the morning."

Reno woke and sat up abruptly, disorientated. He was in a white bed in a white room and the light penetrating the white blinds was so bright it made his eyes water. Under the plate it was always twilight when it wasn't dark. Remembering the night's events Reno opened the door quietly and padded barefoot to his mother's room. He stopped at the door of her room, because the doctor was there, talking to her quietly. Marnie's face was completely still. Reno ran to her then, ignoring the doctor. "Mom? What is it? What's wrong?" Marnie shook her head. "Reno – it's okay. It's just – while they were sorting me out last night, they found something – and –they want to do some other tests."

"What kind of tests?"

"We need to check your mom over," the doctor said. Reno searched the woman's face, but she seemed calm. "Don't worry, Reno. We check everyone who comes in with fractures."

"Fractures?"

"Your mom fractured her arm last night – and her cheek – sometime in the last couple of years." Reno knew when that must have happened. The day after he'd sworn at Mrs. Troy. He looked at the floor. Marnie said, "It's all right, Renes." She indicated a plate of toast and butter on a tray by the bed. "You have that for breakfast," she told Reno. "I'm not allowed to eat before the tests anyway. Then you can take your skateboard and explore." She looked at the doctor anxiously. "That'll be all right won't it? If he goes out?"

"Oh, yes. There's a park just across the way." The doctor smiled at Reno. "We'll take care of your mom. She'll be back here by the evening."

"But – these tests – like I told Mr. Veld – we don't have insurance."

"Don't worry, Reno. The Turks said any necessary treatment was covered." The doctor smiled, and whispered. "Shin-Ra can afford it." Marnie said, "Oh, Renes, take some money from my bag. You'll need to buy lunch." Reno did as she said, slipping a ten-gil note into his pocket. He ate two pieces of toast and tried to smile. "Okay, mom. I'll go exploring, yo!"

"See you later, Renes." Marnie's smile was as brittle as Reno's. They both knew the other was faking, but they both felt they had to try. Reno went back to his room to put on his trainers, then found his way back down to the entrance lobby, and walked outside into sunshine. For a moment he stood still, amazed by the heat on his skin and hair. He'd never realized that sunshine was a thing you could feel. And the light! He found it hard to keep his eyes open, it was so bright. When he managed to look up, blinking tears from his eyes, he saw the sky, wide miles of brilliant blue above him. He reached a hand up – an involuntary movement – as though he could touch…Realising what a stupid slum-kid he must look like, he thrust his hand in his pocket quickly, and glanced around to make sure no-one was laughing at him. Just across the road from the hospital was a park with green grass. Reno ran across the road, stood on the grass and slipped his trainers off. The grass was cool, and unexpectedly wet, and soft, and like nothing he'd ever felt. All the things about living on the plate – you could see them on TV, but no-one ever told you what they felt like! The air was different too – it smelled clean, and there was a breeze, like air-con, but warmer. It moved in his hair, and pressed against his skin, and it felt good. Reno wandered around the park. There were hardly any people about. Neat paths meandered around beds of colourful flowers, and Reno stopped to stare at them. You could smell the scent of them in the air – like the perfume his mom wore on special occasions, only softer, more difficult to pin down…He passed a smartly dressed woman pushing a little kid in a buggy, and saw her eyes widen for an instant before she looked ahead and hurried past. Did he look so strange to her? He wandered on, feeling awkward now. He found a place with slides and swings, where another mom was pushing a toddler backwards and forwards through the air. There were places like this in the slums, but they were cobbled together from scrap metal. These were purpose built, painted in bright colours, completely free from damage or graffiti. Beyond this area, near to another wide road, was a whole section of the park filled with ramps and tubes and curved surfaces. Reno's eyes gleamed. It could've been designed for skateboards! There was no-one around. Reno put down his board and skated onto the smooth surface. It was perfect. He experimented. The lift you could get off those ramps! The aerial tricks that must be possible! Before long, Reno was completely absorbed. He forgot everything else in the exhilaration of air and speed. He didn't even notice the long white limousine that pulled up near the fence.

"Veld! Stop!" The sudden command from the usually quiet Rufus Shinra startled Veld. "What's wrong?" the Turk asked, half turning to look at his passenger. Rufus, on his way home after a generally satisfactory first term at school, was staring out of the window, looking towards the park. Veld pulled in to the side of the road. "Look at that boy!" Rufus exclaimed. "How can he _do_ that?" Veld shook his head wearily. He'd had no sleep because after sorting out that poor red-haired woman from the slums and her kid, he'd had to drive straight to pick up Rufus at six in the morning so that the boy could be home in time for some reception his mother was giving. He looked in the direction of Rufus's astonished gaze, and saw – that same kid – no mistaking – slum-pale, slum-skinny, vivid red hair, black and red skateboard. And the kid was flying. Veld said, "He's from the Sector Five slums. His mom's in the hospital."

"How can he do that… stuff? How can he not fall off?" Veld smiled. "Practice. Like you and music."

"Oh! I wish…" Rufus stopped himself. One wasn't supposed to reveal one's feelings to inferiors. Without thinking, he pushed the button to lower the window so he could see better. Reno suddenly sensed that he was being watched. He stopped on top of a ramp, catching the board deftly, and looked towards the car. His eyes locked with the wide blue gaze of a little blond boy, some years younger than him. The boy was dressed in a white jacket, and his blond hair was neatly cut. He looked confident and rich, but his expression was awed. Reno grinned at him, jumped into the air, sliding the board under his feet, and took off down the slope. Veld suddenly realised what Rufus had done, and raised the window instantly. "Rufus!" he said sharply, "You must never lower the window! The glass is bulletproof."

"Oh – I'm sorry – I know that." Rufus sounded so genuinely contrite that Veld felt sorry for him. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have stopped." He started the car, and they pulled away. Rufus said quietly, "But that boy –!" Veld smiled wryly to himself, thinking of the boy's home, and his poor mother, and his thin, pale face. "And what wouldn't Rufus Shinra give to be you at this moment, Reno from the slums?" he thought, as he drove President Shinra's son home to Sector One.

Reno spent most of the day in the park. He was amazed that no-one else came to use the place he had found that was so perfect for skateboarding. Perhaps it was some kind of a sculpture, and skating on it was forbidden? But when that white car had stopped the rich kid had looked impressed, and no-one had said anything, so Reno kept right on skating.

Eventually Reno started to feel hungry, so he explored the streets around the hospital. He found a shop selling sandwiches and drinks in cans and ice-cream, so he bought as much as his gil would allow. A high brick wall ran along the street near to the hospital, and Reno, who had always been good at climbing, scaled it easily, even with his skateboard under his arm, and his lunch stuffed into his pockets. Sitting on top of the wall, in bright sunshine, Reno surveyed his surroundings. Midgar was so different above the plate! Everything shone. Realizing that his ice-cream was melting fast, Reno ate that first. He couldn't remember when he'd last had ice-cream, and it tasted all the better for that. Then he drank a whole can of orange juice, which seemed fresher and sharper than the cartons of juice he was used to, and finished with some kind of meat sandwich. Even the food was nicer on the plate! He wasn't sure how he felt about that. It was good to be here, to see this world, but at the same time – well, how come he'd been born in the slums? How come he had to live in the dirt and the dark, when up here it was all so fucking clean and bright? Reno jumped down from the wall, and kicked the drink can into the road where it lay glinting in the sunlight – a solitary piece of litter in the pristine street. Stepping onto his board, Reno hightailed it back to the hospital, revelling in the rumble of his wheels on the smooth sidewalks. People shot him disapproving glances, but he just grinned at them and kept on skating. Reno thought about Veld's words: "Shin-Ra's always looking for bright recruits, no matter where they come from." If he kept working hard at school, if he did what his mom said and made the most of his chances, perhaps it wouldn't be so impossible. "One day," Reno promised himself, gliding past shops filled with expensive clothes and electrical goods and jewellery while long, sleek cars passed by with purring engines, "One day, I'm having some of this!"

When he got back to his mom's room, Reno was surprised to see her dressed. As soon as he appeared, Marnie said, "Renes, good. Come on, we're going home."

"Now?" He looked at her face carefully. "Are you well enough?"

"I'm fine," she said, in an odd, hard voice. "We need to get back – we don't belong here."

"But –"

"No buts, Reno. We're going. Have you got everything?"

"Yeah."

"Right, all set? Come on then."

"Don't you have to see the doctor before you go?"

"No. That's all done." Something in her clipped tone told Reno it would be best not to argue. He followed her out of the hospital and was surprised when she climbed straight into a waiting taxi. "Get in," she told him, sounding almost angry. "Shin-Ra's paying, so we may as well make the most of it." Reno did as she told him, and the taxi pulled away smoothly. From the window Reno watched the shining hospital and the park receding into the distance. This was his first taxi ride, and it was followed by his first train journey back to the slums. Normally he would have enjoyed the novelty of that, but his mom's strange mood worried him, and he was relieved when they reached their own tiny apartment. But as soon as she had shut the door behind them, Marnie slumped down on the sagging sofa that was also Reno's bed, and burst into helpless tears.

"Mom? What is it? It's okay now – we're home."

"No, it's not okay," Marnie wept. "Renes, I wish I didn't have to tell you – but you need to know what's going to happen. You can't rely on Joe, and I'm not…not going to be able…" Marnie sobbed something inaudible. Reno was more frightened at that moment than he'd ever been in his life, but he put his arms around his mom and said, "It's okay. We'll sort it out, whatever – you and me. I'm not far off twelve now. I can look after you."

"Oh Renes!" Marnie wiped her eyes, and sat straighter. "No, I have to do this right." She took a deep breath and Reno could see her gathering herself, making herself strong. "Those tests."

"Oh no…"

"They did a scan. At first they were worried about fractures, but then they – they found something else. There's no way to say this…Oh Gaia! I have lung cancer, Renes."

"Mom! No, no – but, we can fight it, yeah? Those Turks – Veld said I could contact him. Shin-Ra could pay for whatever you need –"

"They offered, Reno. They did. But even Shin-Ra can't do the impossible. It's too late. It's already everywhere in my body. In my brain, too. The scan showed – all these areas…They said, could be a year, if I'm lucky…"

"No. I can't believe…"

"It's how it is Renes." Reno looked away from her, trying not to cry. He failed completely. Marnie pulled him against her, and stroked his hair. "Oh Renes. It's okay. It's okay to cry. I'm crying, too, aren't I?"

They curled up together on the couch and Marnie pulled Reno's duvet over the pair of them. Eventually Reno's sobs subsided. Eventually, he slept. Marnie held her son tight, thinking that he was the one good thing in her miserable life. She vowed that she would hold on as long as she could – keep him going to school – give him a chance at something better.

When Reno woke Marnie was already up and dressed for work. He stared at her and shook his head. "No way are you going to work today!"

"I have to. Look, Reno, I'm really sorry that you're going to have to grow up this fast, but there are things you're going to have to know. We live pretty much hand to mouth. There is no money."

"I know."

"So what's going to happen is this: Joe's out. He's an adult, and he's just going to have to look after himself. Maybe, that way, when the time comes, he'll be able to look after you."

"I don't need him."

"That's what I'm hoping. Now, at the moment, I feel fine. I had no idea – except for feeling a bit tired and out of breath… So I'm going to keep working, and what we save on Joe's food and drink and cigarettes, I'll save for you, so that when I'm not here any more you can pay the rent for as long as it takes you to get your exams. That's all I want now, Renes, to make sure you get qualifications."

"I will. I swear." A thought struck Reno, and his expression darkened. "It was the cigarettes that did this wasn't it? Him, always fuc – uh – always smoking indoors! And you had to pay for them!"

"We don't know that, Reno. I work in a bar. People smoke. It could just be – bad luck."

"Bad luck? Mom…why is this happening to you? It's so wrong. It's not fair!"

"Life isn't fair, Renes. You've seen that other world now, up on the plate. How is that fair? We just get what we get. All we can do is make the most of whatever that is." She smiled at him. "I made one good thing happen in my life. I had you. Joe didn't want…but I had you, and I love you and I've done my level best to raise you right. And now all I care about is making sure you have a chance. So I'm going to work now, Reno, and you're going to school. Tonight I'm going to have a talk with the principal, and see what can be done about you taking some exams early. I want to be here to see you get somewhere, Renes."

"I will Mom," Reno replied earnestly. "I'll take all my exams, and I'll get a job that'll make you proud – I promise. Something that people respect. Something where no-one can look down on you."

"Good boy, Reno," Marnie said, smiling. "That's what I want for you – a life that's better than mine."

* * *

Thanks for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

Time has passed...I'm changing the rating to an M from now on, because the next chapters are darker, and the themes more adult.

Tseng's in this one. I like Tseng...

Please R&R. Thank you to those who already have.

Chapter warnings: swearing, evil, death! Reno's a killer now... (don't give up on him though - it was self-defense...)

* * *

Reno, Fifteen

The man looked at Reno, smiling. Reno didn't like the way he smiled at all. Flood was watching him too. He didn't smile. "Well, Mr. Lauder? What do you think?"

"How old?"

"fourteen."

"Fifteen," said Reno, scowling. "Fifteen last month."

"Hmm. Still he's small, for fifteen. I guess, slum kids often are. Well – you're right – he's pretty." Reno glared at Flood. "What the? What is this? Where does he get off callin' me that?"

"Is his hair really that colour?"

"Yes. You should've seen his mom, when she was alive."

"Not of much interest to me," observed the man called Mr. Lauder, blandly. Reno looked at him through narrowed eyes. Lauder was not from the slums – that much was clear. He wore a good suit, and he carried himself with an air of arrogant authority only seen on people used to getting their own way. Flood had promised he could help. But Reno's instincts were screaming at him to get the hell away. He aimed for a casual tone as he asked, "So what is this about? Flood said you had work for me?" Mr. Lauder looked back at Flood, and said, "He's not going to be trouble is he?"

"No. And anyway – look how skinny…"

"All right. Did we say fifty?"

"Up front, if you don't mind."

"Fine." The man pulled a fifty-gil note from his jacket pocket and handed it to Flood, who pocketed it and left, closing the door behind him. The man called Lauder turned back to the door, and Reno heard a key turn in the lock. "Hey," he asked, really afraid now, "What the hell is this? Flood said you had work. What do you want?"

"You know what I want, Red. Don't pretend. Flood said your mother was his whore, so you know what goes on." Reno's face went completely white. He snarled, "My mother was _not_ a…Never! She worked hard all her life – in a bar, and in a factory. Flood's a fucking liar, and so are you. Get out."

Lauder only laughed. "Firebrand, huh? But you're wrong. Flood said she used to pay him like that when the rent was overdue. Why would he lie? And I hear your rent's overdue. You really don't want to end up on the streets – pretty boy like you. Out there, people just take it – they don't pay. I've got another fifty – if you're good."

"Flood's a fucking liar," said Reno again. "I don't want your money. Just get out. I'd rather be on the streets – rather any fucking thing." He backed away as he spoke, edging round the sofa, into the kitchenette. Lauder followed him, smiling that terrifying smile. "Don't worry, Red. You'll get used to it. You'll get to like it. Come here."

"No way!" Reno backed up to the kitchen drawer, slid it open behind his back, managed to get a hand inside. He said, "You just stay the hell away from me. I've heard about men like you – but you try any of that shit, and I'll fucking kill you."

Lauder laughed. "C'mon kid. You're no killer." He walked towards Reno confidently, merely raising an eyebrow when Reno drew his right hand from behind his back, and showed him the knife he'd extracted from the drawer. "I have killed someone," Reno said. "And I will kill you." Lauder looked unimpressed. "What, you're going to kill me with _that_?" he asked, lunging forward to grab Reno's right wrist. He slammed Reno's hand down onto the counter top, knocking the pathetically small knife away, then turned his attention to the boy's scared face. Looming over his victim, Lauder saw the red-haired kid shaking his head, probably about to beg for mercy. Then something flashed in the boy's sea-green eyes, and Lauder registered his words, too late. "No," Reno stated, "I'm gonna kill you with _this_!" His left hand thrust forward too fast to follow, and Lauder felt a blow in his stomach. He almost laughed, thinking the boy had punched him, until he looked down and saw the much larger blade buried almost up to the handle in his body. Lauder gasped, clutching at the knife. He tried to grab Reno, but the boy slipped sideways and evaded him. "You bastard son of a bitch!" Lauder groaned, pressing his hands against the wound in a vain attempt to stop the blood which was beginning to pulse out, staining his shirt brilliant red. "What have you done? Get a doctor! I'm…I can't…" Reno watched from a safe distance as Lauder crumpled slowly to the floor. He felt nothing. He stood still, watching the blood spreading, soaking Lauder's clothes, pooling on the grey tiles of the kitchen floor. Lauder was making weird gasping noises now, and his face was white. Reno watched his lips turning blue, watched as the catch and heave of his laboured breathing grew less, watched as it ceased. When he was quite sure Lauder was dead, Reno went to the sink, skirting the body, and searched in the cupboard underneath until he found an old pair of yellow rubber gloves that his mom had used for doing dishes. Pulling them on, Reno took Lauder's wallet out of his pocket and opened it, taking out five of the six fifty-gil notes he found there. Enough to keep him alive for a while, he guessed, stuffing them into the pocket of his jeans. Replacing the wallet, he searched Lauder's other pockets until he found the key to his own door. Flood must have given it to him. For a moment, Reno considered just pulling the knife out of Lauder's body, going downstairs, crossing the road to Flood's building and killing him too. He shook his head. That wouldn't work. He'd be seen – someone would find Flood's body – and Reno had a promise to keep tomorrow. He inserted the key into the lock on the inside of the door to make life difficult for anyone trying to get in. Then he went to pack the things he'd need: clothes, pen, literature textbooks, blankets from the bed, skateboard, the two photos he owned of his mom. Shoving everything into his school bag, Reno thought hard. He was pretty sure no-one would miss Lauder until the next day. Reno knew his prints would be all over both knives, but then they were his kitchen knives, so that was hardly surprising. He'd left everything in Lauder's pockets except the notes. Best plan would be to get some sleep, then leave before dawn, out of the window and down the fire-escape. He could wear his uniform, go to school, take his last two exams, and just – disappear. For a moment he wondered about going to Shin-Ra – asking to see Veld. Men of violence, his mom had said. Well – he was one of them now, wasn't he? He was already a thief, and now he was a killer too – doubly a killer if what he had done for his mom counted. But he doubted whether the Turks would want a killer they hadn't trained themselves. Leaving Lauder's body lying on the floor of the kitchenette, Reno went into the bedroom and shut the door. He was surprised by how little he felt. He'd killed a man. He hadn't panicked. He'd thought of the trick with the two knives. How had that occurred to him? Reno had a pretty good idea of what Lauder had been planning to do to him; the boys at school were always talking about paedos and the sick things they did if they caught you. Would security send you to prison for killing a man who'd been intending to do those things? Reno kept his clothes on, and got under the duvet. He had to rest. He'd promised his mom he'd take all his exams, and he was damn well going to do it. Lauder had asked for it. But Lauder was from the plate. If top-side security got involved, would Reno be able to hide? Well – he'd try, at least. Reno lay in the dark thinking. He made some tentative plans, then shrugged inwardly. Sleep was the important thing now. There was only one more thing he could do for his mom, and he was determined to do it as well as he could, whatever the price. After that he could think about what to do next. Reno closed his eyes, and was surprised by how easily tiredness washed over him. Wasn't there supposed to be some regret after you killed someone? That play he'd virtually learned by heart for the literature exam tomorrow – the king in that had killed his friend in a fit of jealousy and then been driven mad by lack of sleep: "My lands, my crown, my own immortal soul / For one soft hour of sweet, forgetful sleep!" But the king had killed his friend, not some fucking conscienceless, plate-dwelling paedophile. No. No regret. That conclusion reached, Reno drifted into sleep easily.

The report that landed on Veld's desk a week later made him frown impatiently. A seedy businessman murdered in the slums would never have come to the Turks' attention if it hadn't been for some recent dealings with Shin-Ra that needed hushing up. Sometimes Veld wondered about the president and the people he chose to do business with. This Lauder sounded a thoroughly unpleasant man – probably got exactly what was coming. But the president wanted the murderer out of the way because he didn't want anyone running around who might know that Lauder had ever provided certain specimens for Hojo's secret labs. He flicked through the file rapidly, already deciding that he would pass the case on to Tseng who would make a quick and efficient job of eliminating the perp, when his attention was caught by a photo of the suspect – a skinny, white-faced slum kid – thirteen or fourteen by the look of him – with striking, and familiar, red hair. Veld looked more closely. Yes – no doubt of it. The boy was dressed in an approximation of school uniform; crumpled white shirt with several missing buttons, black blazer without a badge, no tie. He'd gotten his left ear pierced since Veld had seen him – must've been three – no four – years ago now – but the defiant tilt of the chin, the unusual blue-green eyes with more than a hint of Wutaian ancestry in their upward slant – those were the same. The boy from the Sector Five Slums who had so impressed Rufus Shinra with his skateboarding, and Veld with his fearlessness, stared out of the photograph. Veld read the file with more interest now, wondering how the kid had become a killer. When he'd finished reading he sighed and shook his head. "Well, Reno da Silva," he murmured, "You've had a hell of a time of it, haven't you?" Used to quick decisions, Veld made up his mind to give the case to Tseng after all – but not for his original reasons. Veld knew a good candidate for the Turks when he saw one – always had. The fact that the kid was a wanted killer – well, in Veld's world, that didn't mar his CV one little bit.

Tseng read the file on Reno da Silva carefully, as he did everything. Turks' intelligence had done a thorough job – everything from the kid's birth certificate to his mother's medical records, to the results of exams only taken a week ago, and already processed, sped through the system at Shin-Ra's 'request'. They'd even included the exam papers, and one was highlighted in red. Tseng read the script, frowning a little at the boy's wild, if characterful, handwriting. Reno da Silva wrote in long, swift strokes more like Wutaian characters than the usual neat rounded hand taught in Midgar schools. Letters blended together into almost undecipherable lines at times, and the dots of the Is were so far removed from their stems as to appear to be random decoration. Tseng stopped thinking about the handwriting, though, once he realised what he was reading - the boy's language composition, written on the morning after the murder. It was interesting, to say the least.

My name was Reno da Silva, but da Silva is my dad's name, and I don't want anything from him. My mom's name was Marnie Flynn, but she'd dead, so I guess I'm just Reno now. So – a composition called 'Remorse' is what you want, huh? Okay – you asked for it. I've killed two people in my life, so I suppose you think I know all about remorse, right? Wrong. Listen up, and I'll tell you how it was. Then perhaps you'll see why I'm not sorry: why I'll never be sorry.

First person I killed was my mom. It's not like it sounds – she asked me to do it. It was the hardest fxxxxxx thing I've ever done, but I couldn't watch her going through the pain any longer. She had lung cancer, and it had spread, and there was nothing they could do. Even the fancy doctors up on the plate couldn't do anything about that. There were three days and nights when she was just screaming and crying, and she kept on saying that she couldn't take it anymore and asking me – begging me – to help. So I went to four different stalls in the market, and bought four packets of painkillers, because they'll only sell you one at a time. Then I bought a carton of that new Banora White apple juice, because mom loved that, and for a while, at the end, she said it was all she could keep down. Said it made her feel better. When I got home I crushed up all the tablets in the juice and took it to her. She could tell what it was by looking at my face, but she just whispered, "Will this help me sleep at last, Renes?" I told her yes, and that I loved her, and helped her hold the glass while she drank the whole lot. I didn't cry then, because she needed me not to, but I cried plenty afterwards, once she'd gone. Not anymore, though. I don't cry any more. So – it tore me up to do it, yeah, but I can't regret it. No remorse.

The second person I killed was last night. Last thing I promised my mom, when she could still talk to me, and the pain wasn't quite destroying her yet, was that I would take all my exams. After she died I had enough money saved to pay the rent for a year – she made sure of that. She'd spoken to school and arranged for me to take the final exams early – that's why I'm just fifteen. The idea was that after that I could leave school and get a job. Well – I'm not coming back to school now, am I? I worked evening shifts in the factory where she used to work, so I could afford food, but when you're under sixteen the pay sucks. The landlord – evil bastard called Flood – kept on upping the rent, because he knew I couldn't complain. I was too young to be a legal tenant. In the end, there was no money left. After mom died, my dad became a Hype addict. He was already an alcoholic anyway, but on the Hype he kept turning up asking me for money. I shouldn't have given him any, but it kept him off my back for a while. Hype's expensive – food's expensive – rent was fxxxxxx astronomical – I just couldn't make enough to live on, not with attending school. So I figured out a way to get up to the plate. Yeah, I know, they say the security is unbeatable, but that's crap if you can really climb. I found a way up the pillar and through a maintenance hatch, and I started taking things from shops. Okay – stealing things from shops. Perhaps I'm supposed to feel remorse for that too, but I don't. I suppose, being a teacher or a marker or whatever you are, you live on the plate? In which case, you'll know how much of everything there is up there. I was there once, before my mom died, and it just burned me up seeing all that stuff. I tried to earn money honestly, like my mom said we should, and it was just impossible to earn enough to live on. I figure those shops on the plate – they can afford it better than I can. Then, when I was fencing the goods in the market, people got to know me, and started paying me to do other jobs for them – taking messages, passing on packages, stuff like that. I knew some of it was drugs. Maybe that's something I do feel bad about, because I see what Hype's doing to my dad, and it's bad shit. Then, last week, Flood told me he knew a man called Lauder – a businessman from the plate – who had some work for me. Last night Flood turned up at my apartment with this guy – some old, lizardy-looking guy with slicked back grey and brown hair, and an expensive suit. That was Lauder. He gave Flood a fifty gil note and Flood left me alone with him. Lauder had a key to my apartment, and he locked us in. He made it clear what he wanted, and I said no way, and he came after me. I backed up against the kitchen drawer where I knew the knives were. I did it on purpose, so I guess you could say it was premeditated. Premeditated self-defence, I'd call it, but I'd bet my life a jury on the plate would call it murder. I got the drawer open and took out two knives behind my back. The small one I took in my right hand, the big one in my left. I'm pretty good with both, really, but I'm left-handed for writing and stuff, so that's why I did it that way round. I thought of the plan straight off – I don't know how – it just appeared in my head. I could see it all laid out – what he'd do, what I'd do, what I'd say. I told him that if he tried anything I'd kill him, but he just laughed. That laugh made me really crazy, so I did the plan. I showed him the knife in my right hand, kind of shaky, and I did this scared face – not hard, because I was shit scared for real – and he said, "What – you're going to kill me with that?" He sounded totally unimpressed. He grabbed my hand, and I let him, and kept the other knife behind my back. He slammed my wrist down on the kitchen counter – that really hurt – and then he came at me, and I just said, "No, I'm gonna kill you with this!" And I stabbed him in the stomach with the big blade, and it just went right in, so damn easy! He tried to grab me, but I twisted away, and got to the other side of the room and then –Then I just watched him die. It didn't take long. There was a lot of blood, but it didn't bother me. No fucking remorse. He was dead, and I was alive, yo? Result.

This morning I got my school stuff and climbed down the fire escape and came here to do my last two exams. Lauder's still in the apartment, if no-one's found him yet. I'm not going back there, so there's no point looking for me. My building is 1125, Sector Five Slums. My apartment number is 433. My name is Reno. Tell all this to the authorities if you want – it's all true. By the time they come looking, I'll be long gone.

This is not a composition. This is a confession.

Reno.

Tseng read the piece through twice and found himself drawn into the kid's story. He smiled a cool smile at Reno's description of Lauder – the photo in the file depicted a man who really would best be summed up as _lizardy_. The trick with the knives – now that showed a certain style. Looking at the photo of Reno, Tseng nodded. He could see this kid as a Turk. Now all he had to do was catch the boy before he came to serious harm on the streets.

* * *

Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

And we're back to Rufus. I'm afraid his life's about to change dramatically...

Please R&R.

* * *

Rufus, Eleven

Rufus was nervous. He wasn't used to feeling like this – oddly nauseous and a little light-headed. He'd played in countless concerts since joining the school, and normally he enjoyed every minute of the attention, but his father hadn't attended any of _them_. In fact, Rufus considered, re-checking that the sheet music was properly ordered, he'd hardly seen his father since coming to school at the age of six. Occasionally the president would phone him and ask a few questions about his academic progress. On his eighth and tenth birthdays he'd actually been allowed home and Lucia had held a party. On both occasions Julius Shinra had been present and had spoken to Rufus for a few minutes. The boy remembered every word, but he also remembered feeling increasingly resentful with each passing year that his father just seemed to have no time at all for him. Now though, two days after his eleventh birthday, he was finally going to spend an entire afternoon with his father. The whole school had been preparing for the president's visit for weeks, and Julius Shinra would give a speech, tour the school and attend the concert – but after lunch he would spend all his time with Rufus alone. Rufus had been a little surprised that his mother wouldn't be there – but then at his last party she'd hardly spoken to Julius either. Rufus wondered whether she saw much more of her husband than Rufus did of his father.

Sitting in the oak-panelled hall, Rufus watched his father as he surveyed the assembled masters and boys. He was an imposing figure and seemed to enjoy the spotlight, taking his time and considering his words. It appeared that he was adlibbing the speech, although Rufus doubted that was the case. Julius Shinra talked about the planet, about the ways in which Shin-Ra had improved people's lives. He touched on the pleasing progress of the war with Wutai, and mentioned the contributions to the company made by several of the parents of the other boys at the school. Finally he expressed a wish that many of the pupils would go on to work for Shin-Ra in the future. "Business is what drives the world," he concluded. "And all of you, in this room, are the future drivers of big business. This school excels in many fields, but the most important subjects of all are those which fuel the economy – business studies, math, economics, sciences, languages. Those are the tools of progress – they create growth and finally, success." The staff and the boys had applauded enthusiastically, but Rufus had felt a sudden moment of lurching doubt. He was good enough at all those subjects – he found schoolwork easy – but none of them fascinated him. What about music? Where did that fit in to his father's world? Without music Rufus couldn't see that there would be much point in progress and success. Without music his own life would be empty of meaning. He had to make his father understand how much it mattered.

Rufus's nerves settled the moment he played the first few bars. He had chosen this piece not because of its acknowledged technical difficulty, but because he believed that no-one alive could fail to be moved by its beauty. The other boys who took music had already performed, mostly fairly dreadfully in Rufus's opinion. Sacha was a competent cellist, and Rufus had been proud of his friend, but Sacha's performance was that of a talented schoolboy – Rufus sounded like a professional pianist. Rufus's long, fine-boned fingers flew over the keys with mature confidence. The head smiled and the music master listened, rapt. Julius Shinra watched his son thoughtfully. The boy was clearly very talented. He was also far too like his mother. Rather than listening to the music, Julius was busy running through all the ways Lucia's influence was manifest in the boy. Physically he was very like her – all slender, fine-featured prettiness. Although Julius's own hair was also blond, Rufus had his mother's pale skin and delicate colouring. His eyes were exactly her colour – the ice blue eyes Julius had so admired when he had first seen them gazing down at him from a cinema screen. His mouth, too, was hers. He had her slow, sensuous smile. Julius felt his gut twist in rage. Locked in his desk drawer were certain recent photographs of his wife with her beautiful mouth pressed against that of another man – a twenty-five year old SOLDIER Second Class. She felt nothing for this SOLDIER – he was sure of that. Her actions were all about revenge because somehow she'd found out about his secret – his mistress, and their teenaged son, Lazard. But Julius was the most powerful man in the world! He was entitled to a mistress if he felt so inclined. All he had asked from Lucia in return for social elevation beyond her wildest dreams was a little loyalty. Clearly that was too much to ask. Frowning, Julius Shinra looked at his son, and wondered what to do about his mother – the woman he no longer loved. Lucia and her acting – Rufus and his music – those had nothing to do with Julius Shinra's world. There and then, Julius decided that Lucia was not going to win. Rufus was _his_ son. Lazard was his son. His boys would take Shin-Ra into the future. Lucia had betrayed him, and Julius Shinra was not a man who accepted betrayal. Lucia would have no place in the bright future he had planned. No place at all.

Rufus finished the piece, and sat still for a moment, letting the silence take possession. He loved this moment – the instant before the applause – the caught-breath, the way music held everyone spellbound and united, until the storm of clapping fractured them back into individuals. When he looked up his father was smiling and Rufus felt a rush of pure joy. His father was smiling at him with more approval in his grey eyes than Rufus had ever seen before. His smile said as clearly as shouted words, "That's my son." For the last time in his life, Rufus Shinra genuinely felt that he loved his father. A few hours later, he had already begun to hate.

"And how many hours a day do you practise?" Julius Shinra asked his son as the boy showed him around the music room. Rufus smiled, and again Julius felt a surge of anger as he saw Lucia's face reflected in Rufus's expression and the light in his blue eyes. "Four or five, usually. Before classes I do violin, and piano in the evenings. Sometimes I think I could play the piano all night." He smiled again. "Sometimes, I _do_."

"So if you had to chose one instrument?"

"Piano, yes. But I love them both."

"A man can't love two mistresses equally," Julius replied.

"Sorry?"

"Oh – nothing. Just thinking. Four or five hours a day is a lot of time. I hope you're not neglecting your real studies?"

"_Real_ studies? Music is my real study. Everything else…" Rufus shrugged. His father's expression darkened. "Yes, that's what I suspected. I spoke to the head this morning. You're a very clever boy, Rufus, and you're doing well in everything, but he says you have no love for business. No passion. We employed Mr. Drasius as Business Studies tutor because he's the best in the world. He ran a very successful arms company until I bought it from him. He tells me your work is - efficient. I don't need efficiency – I can buy that. SOLDIER is efficient. The Turks are extremely efficient. What I need from you is vision. Interest. A love of power. You play chess?" Again Rufus shrugged. "Sometimes," he murmured.

"Do you win?"

"Usually." One more shrug of those narrow shoulders, and Julius's patience snapped. He gave a shout of rage, and Rufus found himself sprawled across the floor of the music room, his cheek stinging from a blow he hadn't even seen coming. Slowly he got to his feet, astonished shock gradually giving way to anger. He looked at his father, blue eyes blazing. "Why?"

"Don't shrug when I ask you questions. You give me the respect you owe me, or I'll damn well make you. You've been spoiled. You're a brat. I don't want to hear that you _usually_ win. You need to win _every time_, or you're a loser. All this art stuff – your mother's drama, your music – it's a waste of time."

"It's all that matters! Music is…it's something _above_…Don't you see? Didn't you _hear_ this morning? I thought…I thought you understood!"

"I wasn't listening. I was thinking about how you need to learn to run Shin-Ra." Rufus's face froze. Something closed down behind his eyes. "You weren't listening?"

"No. Rufus, music is nice, but it's useless. It doesn't make things happen in the real world. I was wrong. I thought sending you to school would make you a part of the real world, but it's just allowed you to waste time indulging this hobby."

"It's not a _hobby_!" Rufus cried, his voice desperate. "Why can't you see that? It's…_everything_! It…it touches something…it's about…truth! Yes, that's it. It's about the truth that you feel in…in your…_soul_." It was the best explanation Rufus could give. He looked at his father's sneering face and knew that it wasn't a good enough one. Julius shook his head. "_Soul_? That's a load of crap, boy. Your soul is the soul of a Shinra, and it's high time you learned that. Where do you think the money for all this comes from? How do you think you've been able to spend all this time playing at being a musician? Have you got the slightest idea how much I spent on that piano you insisted on having?"

"Yes! Yes, I know it was an awful lot. And I was so grateful. I wrote…"

"I expect my secretary dealt with the letter."

"It's the best piano. I think it's the best piano in the world. I'll try harder in business. I will learn."

"No Rufus, I don't think you will. Not as long as you're being distracted by music. It's time to grow up. The piano's going."

"NO!"

"And that violin. That cost more than I pay all the Turks put together in a year. I could've bought a holiday home in Costa Del Sol for the price of that violin. I could've bought the entire street for the price of that piano." Rufus's face was ashen. He said, "Please don't."

"I've decided. Perhaps we'll keep the piano in Midgar. You can play it in the holidays. If your school reports are good enough."

"But how will I practice? How will I learn?"

"You can have lessons twice a week, like the other boys. You can use the school instruments, and practice half an hour a day, as befits a hobby."

"Have the violin. Please don't take my piano."

"It's not _your_ piano. It's _mine_. And that's another lesson you need to learn. Shinras don't negotiate."

"I won't live without music."

"Succeed in business and you can buy all the music you want. The best performers, playing in private for you."

"But I could be playing for myself. I could _be_ the best – I know I could."

"And you will be. The best CEO of Shin-Ra. The ruler of the planet."

"But I don't want –"

"Then _learn_ to want. That's your destiny. You can't escape it." Rufus looked at his father. His expression was murderous. "I _hate_ you!"

Julius Shinra smiled. "That's the spirit!" he said.

The rest of Julius's visit was passed in cold silence. Rufus wouldn't look at him. When he finally left, Rufus escorted him to the car, as he was obliged to do, accompanied by the head, who was all obsequious smiles. Veld waited by the car. Unlike the head, he instantly picked up on the strained atmosphere between Rufus and his father – he was a Turk, he was paid to be alert. Ever the professional, though, Veld simply took note. Nothing in his expression gave away the fact that he had noticed. The head shook Julius Shinra's hand effusively and said, "An honour Sir, an honour. I will implement all the changes you requested immediately." Julius gave a tight smile. "Of course you will." He turned to Rufus. "Goodbye, Rufus. Work hard." Rufus looked at his father. His voice was calm and flat. "Goodbye, Sir. I will." Rufus stood watching the car until it was out of sight. Then he looked at the head. "You can have the violin, but no-one's taking my piano." Rufus walked straight back into the school building, went to his rooms and locked the door. The head waited for almost two days before contacting president Shinra. Rufus had a bathroom, so he had access to water, but he hadn't eaten for forty hours, and the head was worried about him. He'd tried sending the music master to talk to the boy, but Rufus hadn't replied to anything he said. Piano music came from the room all day and much of the night. Lloyd sighed, and told the head, "I can't say I'm surprised. That boy was born to play the piano. I don't understand his father's attitude. Any other parent in the world would be so proud! If it were me, I'd do the same. That piano…"

"Yes – but you're not the future president of Shin-Ra. And we have a serious problem. I don't want to have to get the president involved, but I have no control over the boy."

"I think you'll have to inform the president. He can't go much longer without food before he does himself some damage. And we don't even know that he's drinking." The head looked terrified – that possibility clearly hadn't occurred to him. "Yes – you're right," he told the music master. "I'm calling President Shinra now."

Personally Veld felt that he had better things to do than sorting out the bad behaviour of a spoiled eleven-year old, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Walking into the open-plan office Tseng shared with Lex and two other Turks, Veld asked wearily, "I don't suppose any of you can play the piano, can you?"

"Yes, Sir. Not well, but adequately." It was Tseng who replied, in his usual calm tone.

"Good. Come with me please. We seem to have a minor incident at Rufus Shinra's school."

The long, black car sped quietly along the desert road, followed by a huge van, carrying a piano specialist and four strong members of Shin-Ra security. In the car on the way to deal with Rufus's temper tantrum, Veld quizzed Tseng about his other, more interesting case. "Anything on Reno da Silva yet?"

"Some." Tseng couldn't help smiling slightly as he thought of the wild red-head and the dances he had lead them through the slums of Midgar. "We took Flood in – the landlord. He caved instantly – confessed to procuring boys for Lauder, several of whom subsequently vanished."

"Flood's been eliminated, I take it?"

"Flood was apparently overcome by remorse about what he'd done, and threw himself off one of his own apartment blocks a few days after we released him."

"How remarkably convenient," Veld commented. Tseng's smile was razor-edged. "The longer I work for Shin-Ra the more I find that things tend to arrange themselves conveniently."

"Hm. Sometimes, it seems, fate draws a Shin-Ra paycheque. But Reno is still at large?"

"Yes. He's exceptionally good at climbing, and he knows every inch of the Sector Five Slums. Most of Four and Six too, it seems, and ways to get between sectors without alerting security. We've established contact with the father, who has promised to inform us if he hears from Reno. Lauder's death scared him badly. We let him think we suspected him for a while."

"Have you offered him money for turning Reno in?"

"Yes, but I doubt that will work. The kid's still his son." Veld shook his head. "The man's a Hype addict. If he does hear from Reno, you'll hear from him. But I'd say the kid has more sense than to go anywhere near him. He knows someone's after him now – although not that it's us. He seems to be doing a good job of surviving on the streets so far."

"Yes. But it's been two months now. We need to bring him in." Tseng frowned. "I must admit, he's impressed me. But once we're back from this mission, I'm going to find him myself."

"Good. I'm growing quite anxious to meet Reno again. I have a feeling he'll go a long way with us."

Rufus tried to ignore the thirst that tore at him. He sat at the piano, as he had done for the last two days, and tried to play, but his vision was blurry and he felt dizzy. "I don't care," he told himself, fiercely. "I won't live that life! It's not my destiny if I refuse to do it. If they take my music, I might as well never eat or drink again." He began Tsai's Sea Concerto – a piece he had loved for years, and knew by heart – but his eyes began to close involuntarily, and he knew he was drifting into sleep. When Tseng forced the door open with a well-aimed kick half an hour later, Rufus slept through it. Veld following, Tseng entered the room, and paused at the sight of Rufus Shinra slumped over a grand piano, his head resting on the keys. Quickly Tseng checked the boy's pulse. The Turk breathed out when he found it, but frowned at how rapid and faint it seemed. Veld was already on his PHS, calling for the school doctor, who arrived in a matter of minutes. "He may not have drunk anything for two days," Veld told the doctor. "He certainly hasn't eaten."

Checking the boy's pulse and taking his temperature the doctor nodded. "I'd say he's a little weak, but not ill. I'll set up a saline drip to rehydrate him, and then he needs rest. Once he's awake again, we'll have to find out what caused this."

"That caused this," replied Veld, gesturing towards the piano. "His father has ordered it removed. This is a tantrum, that's all."

"Quite a serious tantrum, if he really hasn't drunk anything for forty-eight hours. Some willpower required there," observed the doctor mildly.

"Rufus was never lacking in willpower," nodded Veld. The older Turk turned to Tseng. "You stay with him. You have your laptop? Good. Work on other projects by all means. Inform me when he's awake."

"Yes, Sir." When Veld and the doctor had gone Tseng flipped open his laptop and reviewed all the recent notes on Reno. He wondered whether the boy's father would really betray him for money, then thought about all the addicts he had seen since joining Shin-Ra – usually pathetic creatures down in the cells who had committed acts of petty theft against the company, or who had made pointless and suicidal efforts at blackmail. Veld was probably right – a hype addict would sell anything or anyone in return for a fix. Tseng sighed and glanced across at the blond boy sleeping on the bed. Reno was out on the streets of the slums fighting for survival, and that little emperor over there was throwing a hissy fit over a piano! The doctor returned to set up the saline drip, and Tseng watched as he inserted the cannula, just in case. Rufus moaned in his sleep as the cannula went in, but he didn't wake. Once the doctor had gone again, Tseng watched Rufus sleeping. Blond hair aside, the boy was nothing like his father, he thought. Tseng had only met Lucia Shinra briefly at social functions, but he recognised her famously beautiful face in that of her son. Since there was nothing more he could do about Reno until one of the Turks on the ground sent new information, and all his paperwork was up-to-date as ever, Tseng wandered over to the piano. His eyes widened as he saw the insanely difficult piece open on the instrument, and he wondered whether Rufus Shinra had really been learning that. If so, perhaps the boy's fanatical dedication to his piano wasn't so surprising. It was a beautiful piano – Tseng could see that. It was also well cared for – the glossy wood polished, and the keys bright and dust-free. Against the wall a carved oak bookcase held rows of neatly ordered files containing sheet music, bound collections of the work of various composers and piles of manuscript paper, presumably filled with the boy's own compositions. Taking down a file containing the Rauch preludes he had learned as a boy at school in Wutai, Tseng decided to risk playing. After all, Veld had asked for someone who could play, and if he could engage Rufus somehow, the boy might be more prepared to listen to reason.

Rufus became aware of two things – a stinging sensation in the back of his left hand, and quiet music playing. Grimacing a little, still only half awake, Rufus murmured, "lento, lento." Startled, Tseng glanced over to the bed, then continued, playing a little more slowly. "Better." Rufus opened his eyes, and looked at Tseng. He said nothing else until the last chord had dissolved into the quiet air. Then he nodded, his face serious. "You're quite good," he told Tseng, his voice a dry whisper. "Who are you?"

"My name's Tseng. I work for –" he'd been about to say _your father_, but changed it to, "Veld. In the Department of Administrative Research."

"You're a Turk."

"Yes."

"A Wutaian Turk?"

"Yes." Tseng waited for the boy to make some derogatory remark about the war, but instead he said, "Oh! Do you know Tsai?"

"The composer?"

"Yes."

"Of course. Perhaps Wutai's greatest composer."

"Do you know the Sea Concerto?"

"Yes. But I couldn't play it from memory."

"Music's over there. Near to the Rauch, actually." Tseng smiled to himself at the boy's imperious attitude, but went to fetch the music without arguing. As he did so Rufus looked up at the drip in his arm, realised that his protest was over, and then reached for the glass of water beside the bed with his right hand. He drank slowly, hiding the relief the cool liquid brought. When he spoke again his voice was stronger. "I haven't seen you before."

"No. I joined the Turks a little over three years ago. You were already at school."

"You must have been young."

"I was almost eighteen when I joined."

"And how old were you when you started to play the piano?"

"Five."

"Play, Tseng. Please."

Tseng played as well as he could, and Rufus listened. At the end he said, "Thank you. You should start to play again. A little practice would loosen your touch enough. You have some talent, I think." He sighed. "It's strange to hear someone else play my piano. No-one has before – except Mr. Lloyd, the music master. But he's a flautist, really. What do you think of it?"

"It's…" Tseng found himself surprisingly moved by the boy's intensity, and the beauty of the tone of the instrument. "It's remarkable," he said at last. "It's the perfect balance of richness and…and clarity."

"Yes." Rufus looked at Tseng and gave him a sudden, genuine smile that transformed his face. "Yes. You can hear it. You understand!"

"I'm…starting to."

"My father thinks I'm just a spoiled brat. He thinks it's just a piano. He _likes_ music, but he thinks it's a hobby. He can't see that I feel the same about business. For me, music is the point!"

"I see that."

Rufus looked at Tseng, and then away. His sudden openness was locked away – Tseng could see him shut down. "But that doesn't matter, does it? It doesn't matter that you understand. You've been sent to take it away." He glanced at the splintered doorframe. "You're going to take it away, aren't you?" At only twenty-one, Tseng was already known within the department for his cool detachment – his ability to remain untouched by the arguments and threats and pleas of those who had attempted to cross Shin-Ra – but even he felt a pang of _something _as he looked Rufus in the eye and replied, "Yes."

"Do you –" Rufus hesitated. Tseng saw how much it cost him to ask a question that mattered to him. He took a breath and tried again. "Do you know where it's being taken? Is he…going to sell it?"

"No, we have orders to take it to your father's apartment in the Shin-Ra building. I'm sure it will be safe there."

"I don't suppose…"

"What can I do for you, Rufus?" Tseng's voice was like the piano – the perfect blend of tones – gentle enough that the boy trusted him; cool enough not to sound patronising. Rufus said, "Would you be able to keep an eye on it for me? Maybe play it sometimes?"

"I will – if I'm given access to those rooms. I've only been up to your father's apartment twice, though."

"I'll speak to Veld. My father's often away. It should be possible."

"Then I would be honoured." Tseng was perfectly sincere. His short conversation with Rufus had completely changed his opinion of the boy, and his sympathy only increased when Rufus said quietly, "I'm not going to be a pianist, am I?"

"Not as a career, maybe. But I think you'll always be a pianist." Rufus smiled, but it was not the dazzling, open smile he had given Tseng earlier. This was a bitter, knowing expression. "Not as a career. No." He sat up suddenly, and ripped the cannula out of his hand without betraying a flicker of pain. "Let me just show you how Tsai _should_ be played – in my opinion." Tseng moved back to the chair beside the bed, and Rufus took his place on the piano-stool. Rufus played: Tseng listened. At the end Tseng waited, his breath, and the boy's, paused until exactly together, Rufus sighed, and Tseng said, "Yes. How it should be." Rufus closed the piano. "I can't do this well enough in the time they're going to give me," he said. "I could have been the best…Well. It's over."

"What do you mean? You can still play – you can play _this_ piano in the holidays."

"Why would I? I couldn't bear to play it badly. No. I'm not…" Rufus's voice caught, and Tseng thought he saw something splash onto the closed lid of the piano. When Rufus looked up, though, his eyes were dry. No Shinra could cry in front of a Turk, and Rufus understood now that he was a Shinra, for better or worse. In a firm voice Rufus said, "I'm not going to play any more. You can take it away. I'm not going to make a fuss. I'm going out for a walk. Just…make sure it's gone by the time I get back."

"I will."

Rufus turned to leave, then said quietly, "Tseng?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for listening properly. Not many people do." Rufus walked away, and Tseng watched him go. Neither of them knew it then, but Rufus had just made the most important ally of his life.

In the car on the way back to Midgar, Veld listened to Tseng's account of all that had happened in Rufus' room. "Do you think the kid was serious, about never playing again?" Veld asked.

"Completely." Tseng glanced out of the rear window. The lorry containing the piano was following close behind them.

"How will that affect him, do you think?" Veld asked, curious. Tseng had notified him as soon as the boy had left the room, and Veld had arranged the transport of the piano while Tseng tailed Rufus discretely to make sure he didn't do anything stupid. The boy had merely walked out into the school gardens where he sat on a wooden bench beside a little pond, and waited. As far as Tseng could tell he never shed a tear. He waited for exactly one hour, then returned to his room, shutting the broken door behind him. Tseng had rejoined Veld then, pushing away an entirely unfamiliar impulse to follow the boy into the room and hug him like an older brother or even a father, and tell him that it was all right to be upset. He knew that it was the last thing Rufus Shinra's pride would stand. He felt unaccountably sad about that. Now, pondering Veld's question, Tseng said, "I think it will change him completely. I think he has been wrenched out of his true path." Veld looked at Tseng in surprise. "You feel that strongly?"

"Yes." Veld had never heard Tseng sound so angry. He still spoke quietly, but there was a dark rage under his words. "I think we've done something wrong today. I think the president is wrong. He meant to break Rufus's spirit, but I think he's broken his heart." Veld made no reply, but glanced at Tseng, astonished. He'd always thought Tseng was pure efficiency and ruthless action, but it seemed there were depths in the Wutaian Turk that he had never previously guessed at.

While the carpenter was busy hanging a new door and fitting new locks, Rufus attended dinner and ate enough to satisfy the doctor who was watching him from the top table. After dinner Rufus spoke to the head, apologizing for the trouble he had caused, coolly informed a horrified Mr. Lloyd that he wouldn't be continuing with music, said a brief word to Seb and Sacha, telling them that he was all right, then walked calmly back to his room. Once inside Rufus leant against the new door and stared at the empty place where his piano had been. There was a huge emptiness inside him too – a feeling that was both absence and unbearable weight. He wanted to scream, and cry all the unshed tears, and rage and destroy everything – but he was frozen. He wondered how hard it would be to kill himself. Then he shook his head. No. He was a Shinra, and no Shinra took that way out. If his father wanted him to be the best at business, he would damn well be the best. He would find, and expose, all the company's weakness – all his father's weaknesses. He would watch, and learn, and win allies, and make plans. And one day he would take the company away from his father. One day, Rufus swore, his father was going to understand how this felt.

As the car reached the outskirts of Midgar, Tseng's PHS flashed a message. Tseng turned to Veld. "You were right," he said, not sounding happy about it at all. "That was Joe da Silva. Reno's with him now."

"Good," replied Veld. "Let's go!"

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Thanks for reading.


	8. Chapter 8

Back to Reno and his dad! Thank you for the reviews. Next update might be a while - this is as far as I've written - but I am going to finish this story - and for all those who asked, yes, Reno and Rufus will meet properly quite soon! Rufus may even play the piano again one day...

Chapter warnings: Everyone swears. Sorry!

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Reno, Fifteen

Joe stared at Reno through wild, blood-shot eyes. "C'mon Reno," he slurred. "I'm still your fucking dad. You must have money." Reno looked down at the man huddled in a dirty blanket, leaning against the wall of a derelict building in Sector Six. He looked like all Hype addicts – shaking and skeletal. His face was still Joe, but a Joe aged twenty years.

"Not for Hype. It's killing you. I'm only here because I heard you were dead, and I wanted to check…"

"Scored some pure shit. Touch and go. But I'm still here. Sorry to disappoint you."

"That's not what…" Reno gave up. "Anyway. See you around."

"Wait!"

"What?"

"I heard about the guy – Landers was it? You killed him?"

"Lauder. Yes, I killed him." Reno's eyes were hard, but he felt weird so close to his dad. Part of him was still the scared kid he'd been when Joe still had power – when he could hurt mom. Now he was a mess and Reno wasn't afraid of him any more, but he was afraid of what Joe represented. He saw his own face in the hollow angles of his father's – the high cheekbones and slanted eyes exaggerated by Joe's gaunt frame. Reno's pale complexion had come from Marnie, but the drugs had left Joe corpse-white. Now Reno felt sick as he heard Joe's laughter. "That's…my boy. You're as much of a screw-up as I am now."

"Not now, not ever. I'm doing fine."

"Yeah – fine, kid. On the streets and wanted for murder. Even I never killed anyone."

"You! You killed mom, fucking smoking all the time in the apartment! You hurt her – you left her too weak to fight. And you left me to look after myself, and ran away to this shit! Whole life you just ran away. If you were really any kind of dad, you'd've been there when Lauder – I wouldn't've had to kill…" Reno spat on the dusty street. "I'm done." For a second the old fury blazed in Joe's tired eyes. "Don't you fucking talk to me like that, you little shit, or -" Reno looked at him, his green eyes blank. "Or what, dad? Or fucking what?" He turned to walk away, and as he did so, he noticed a flash of green light in his peripheral vision. Quick as thought, Reno grabbed his father's hand and pulled it free of the blankets. He was holding a phone! But that made no sense – he'd have sold a phone instantly for a fix. Reno looked at the automatic message his father had just sent. His heart lurched. "Who's Tseng?"

Joe shrugged. "Some guy."

"Guy who's after me?"

"Seems."

"How much did he offer you?" Joe laughed again, shrugged again. "Enough."

"Right. More than fifty?"

"Bit more. Why?"

"Was he security? A police bounty hunter?" This time Joe's laughter had a manic edge. "No such luck Reno. Fucking Shin-Ra Turk. Looks like you'll be dead before me!" Reno glanced around the alley, breathing hard. Lauder must've been important. Without a last glance at his father, Reno set off back down the alley, his heart pounding. Turks had cars – probably even helicopters. They could be here any minute. Behind him, he heard Joe's mocking laughter. "Who's running now Reno? Who's fucking running now?"

Once he was out of sight of Joe, Reno found a building with a fire escape and ran up it quickly. At the top, he climbed over an iron gate onto the roof, then doubled back until he thought he was in roughly the right place. Peering cautiously over the parapet, Reno grinned. He could see Joe three floors down and almost directly below him, talking into the phone. Reno hoped this Tseng would show – he wanted to get a look at the Turk who was following him. Reno glanced up at the metal underbelly of the plate not much more than a couple of storeys above him. No-one was coming down from there.

He ducked back down behind the parapet as he heard a car engine – a rare enough sound in the slums. The slamming of doors, and two sets of footsteps. Reno edged forward, peeped over the edge. Two men stood in front of his father – a handsome, dark haired, guy – quite young – Wutaian – and Veld! Reno recognised Veld instantly – he hadn't changed at all in the four years since the night the Turks had helped his mom. For a moment Reno was seized with the longing to call out – remind Veld about his offer – change his life. But that offer had been made to a promising student, not a killer on the run. Reno kept quiet, and listened. Veld's voice was angry: "You told us he was here!"

"He was – five minutes ago max. He saw the phone, and ran."

"Really?" The Wutaian man – Tseng, Reno supposed, spoke more softly, but there was something in his voice that made the boy shiver. "He just saw the phone? He didn't ask you about it?"

"He asked."

"And you said...?"

"Nothing, really. Only that someone was after him. Not who. Look, I've done what I said. You said a hundred gil." Tseng shook his head. "I said a hundred gil if we caught him."

"Next time, I'll keep him talking. Please, just give me the money." High on the building above Reno shook his head at his father's desperate stupidity. He wasn't really surprised when Tseng drew a gun and aimed it casually at Joe. "He got a look at the screen, didn't he?"

"Oh shit – please don't – yeah – he might've seen – please…" Reno's blood turned icy when he heard his father plead for his life. He hated Joe – but… Tseng suddenly looked up. Reno ducked down, biting back a curse. Tseng's voice was clear in the still air. "Reno? I don't know if you care or not, but I'm going to shoot him if you don't show yourself. You have until five," - the bastard didn't even pause for breath – "One, two, three, four –"

"Okay!" Reno heard himself call out. Not really believing what he was doing, he got to his feet, shakily. "Okay. Don't - don't kill him. Let him go, and I'll come down."

Veld chuckled – a weirdly warm and human sound. "Doesn't work that way, Reno. Come down, and we'll let him go."

"I…can't." Reno's fear was real, but that didn't stop him using it. "Legs…kinda gone all shaky…Don't think I can c – climb back over that g-gate…" Veld said something quiet to Tseng who shook his head. Veld gestured to Joe. "Get out of here," he said. Joe didn't need telling twice. He snatched up his blanket and limped away as fast as he could. Reno watched him go, then scanned the nearby roof tops. He needed to buy a little time to make sure Joe was safely away. Veld stood watching him. "Okay, kid. Your pa's safe. Come down."

"No, no," Reno cried, faint hysteria in his voice. "I really can't – can't move…"

"If you're fucking with us…"

"No shit…for real…"

Veld sighed. "Okay," he told Tseng, "You'll have to go up and get him. I'll watch him from here."

As soon as Reno saw the younger Turk move around to the side of the building he smiled to himself. Now he knew there was a way out. Once he was sure Tseng was too far up the fire escape to jump down quickly, Reno made his move, running for the far side of the building, away from the alley where Veld waited. Reno swung himself over the parapet, and climbed down the brick wall one storey, landing on the flat roof of a lower adjoining building. From there it was a tricky leap up to a balcony, and then an easy climb to another roof. Jumping from roof to roof, scaling walls, climbing up and down fire escapes and balconies, Reno put distance between himself and the Turks. Descending quickly, using ledges and rough brickwork, Reno dropped into a street three blocks away from the alley where Veld had been. He heard Veld shouting to Tseng, but didn't stop to listen.

Reno ran for his life. He didn't pause until he had climbed onto the roof of the security check-point linking Sector Six to Sector Five, and slipped down into familiar streets. There was an old church in Sector Five, out beyond the market, where no-one ever went. Reno made his way to it, and curled up in the stolen sleeping bag he had hidden under one of the rotting pews. Safe again, for now.

Tseng shook his head. "I _knew_ he was bluffing."

"You did. I was wrong, I admit. But killing the father won't help anything. We want willing recruits, if possible. We'll catch Reno, in time. He's good isn't he? Fast. Clever."

"Yes. An accomplished liar too, it seems."

Veld smiled. "Perfect Turk material, then."

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Thanks for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

**A big thank you to all the lovely reviewers - I appreciate you taking the time to give feedback.**

**This fic is turning out to be longer than I thought, but for those who asked, we will get on to Reno and Rufus actually meeting soon! For now though, more parallels between the two lives: Reno's already lost _his_ mom...Poor Rufus...**

**chapter warnings - implied death, angst.**

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**Rufus, 12**

Lucia Shinra smiled as the elevator rose serenely up the outside of the Shin-Ra building. She watched Midgar falling away below her through the glass wall, and then looked down at the gilt-edged invitation in her perfectly manicured hand. She was to receive a lifetime achievement award from the Junon Academy of Film and Drama, for services to the entertainment industry. To tell the truth, Lucia had been surprised by the award: her films had been well-received, and her image had graced the covers of countless magazines, but no-one had ever claimed that her work had any particular artistic merit. Not a stupid woman by any means, Lucia had no illusions about the reasons for her fame - she starred in thrillers and popular romantic comedies, she was beautiful, she wore clothes well. And then she had married Julius Shinra.

Lucia's smile faded when she thought about Julius. She knew that she had been a good wife: she had certainly looked the part – she had given him the male heir he wanted – she had shone as brightly as she could at every ball and reception and charity event she had attended with him or on his behalf. And yet – after the initial infatuated interest leading to their high-profile wedding – he had turned away from her, lost in his work, she had assumed. When Rufus had been born, Julius had come to the hospital and thanked her with a bracelet adorned with two million gil's worth of diamonds. Then he had taken Rufus outside and presented his son and heir to the massed ranks of the press photographers. And when the photo-call was over he had handed the baby to the nanny - the Wutaian girl, Mizuki - before leaving immediately to attend a meeting of Shin-Ra shareholders. After that Lucia had hardly seen him, except for carefully orchestrated public appearances and photo opportunities. He had stopped coming to her room at night. More often than not he wasn't even in the same building – but she led a comfortable, secure life, and most of the time she felt – if not happy – then at least satisfied with her lot.

Years later Lucia found out the real reason for Julius's neglect of her. It had been the night of Rufus's eighth birthday – she'd organized a party, and Rufus had been allowed home from school – but during the event she'd overheard part of a conversation between a young company executive and his wife which had thrown her world into disarray and destroyed her content. She had been standing against a pillar in the reception room, watching her son talking confidently to Julius's business associates, when a high-pitched female voice had exclaimed with the faintest hint of a tipsy slur, "Of course it's a shame for _her_ too, really! So beautiful, and so unloved. But they say it began years before she married him – before Rufus was born, of course."

"I know," a deep male voice had responded. "And everyone knows about it – it's an open secret. They say the son will start working for Shin-Ra when he's sixteen – three more years. But Rufus will be the VP, no doubt about that."

"So I suppose the mother wasn't … suitable?"

A harsh male laugh was followed by, "Suitable for _some_ things. Not marriage material. Can you imagine – a woman from the slums!"

Lucia remembered slipping away before they saw her. She remembered the fixed, bright smile she had worn for the rest of the evening, until Rufus was in bed and she had gone to find Julius. When she'd confronted him, he hadn't tried to deny anything. Yes, he'd had a mistress for the past fifteen years. They had a son called Lazard. He had seemed irritated that she cared – had explained carefully that Lazard's existence would make no difference to Rufus's prospects: Rufus was the legitimate heir, Rufus would be president of Shin-Ra one day. He seemed to think that the threat to Rufus's position was the only reason for her anger.

It had been made quite clear to Lucia that she was required to continue in her role as a good wife and mother. Afraid of what Julius might do should she refuse, and fearful of losing contact with Rufus, Lucia had tried to comply. But the phrase the executive's wife had used ran through her head no matter how she tried to shut it out – _so beautiful and so unloved_. Oh, people loved her _films,_ people loved her screen persona, but no-one loved _her_. Julius certainly didn't, and even her son, cared for by a nanny and then away at school, hardly knew her at all.

She hadn't gone seeking love elsewhere, and it certainly hadn't been a planned revenge, but when she'd met SOLDIER Second Class Lee Gale at some boring function Julius had been too busy to attend, she'd found herself responding to his mild flirting in a way she had never allowed herself to before. His handsome, dark looks, his youth, his damned _enthusiasm_ made him irresistible. They had fallen into the affair easily, without thinking about the consequences, and Lucia couldn't feel guilty. She felt that she loved Lee as she had never loved anyone – her life was finally – _finally_ – matching up to one of her films.

The elevator reached the top floor of the Shin-Ra building, and the door opened. A red carpet stretched across the rooftop to the waiting helicopter, where Veld was standing. Perhaps this was a new start for her, Lucia reflected. She was being recognised for her own work – not for being Julius Shinra's wife. She had found someone who loved her. All she had to do was to be careful, and act her dutiful wife role well. And if anyone could act a role, it was Lucia Shinra.

She was about to walk to the helicopter when her phone rang. Extracting it from the little clutch that had been chosen to contrast effectively with her outfit, Lucia said, "Oh, hello." Her voice was bright, relaxed. Even if Veld could have heard her from this distance, he wouldn't have suspected she was talking to her lover.

"Lucia? Oh Gaia, Lucia, they know."

Lucia's face paled, but under the makeup it wasn't obvious. She held herself upright, perhaps rather unnaturally still, and said, "I see. What, exactly?"

Lee's voice was panicked. "They have photos. Everything. Officially I…I'm being posted to Wutai. But there are people outside the barracks. I think…Turks. Where are you?"

"I'm just about to leave for Junon, actually." Lucia's voice still sounded as though she was chatting to a friend.

"Whatever you do, don't get into that helicopter. I think Julius is going to kill us both. I can't talk – Gaia, what was that? No – I think they're coming. I love you, Lucia. Get away. Don't –" The phone went dead. Lucia stood frozen for a moment, then she said, "Thank you, I will. Goodbye!" Her heart lurched as she saw that Veld was speaking into his PHS.

Lucia turned and headed back towards the elevator, but the door was closed. Veld started moving towards her. She pushed the button to summon the elevator, trying to appear casual, acting for her life.

"Mrs. Shinra?" Veld's voice was calm and low, and right behind her. She turned, smiling. "Oh, Veld. I'm sorry - I forgot my jewellery case. I'll need it for the ceremony."

"Don't worry, Mrs. Shinra. We'll have it sent on."

"No, no. It won't take a minute to fetch it."

"We need to leave now, I'm afraid."

"No, I –"

Veld put his hand on Lucia's arm, and turned to walk beside her, escorting her along the red carpet gently. Feeling tears in her eyes, Lucia blinked angrily. What had she told Rufus? _No Shinra can cry in front of a Turk._ She made herself ask, "Is Lee dead?"

"Yes."

Lucia's breath caught, but she made no sound. Veld was suddenly reminded of Tseng's description of Rufus on the day they had taken his piano. Who were these Shinras - these people who could feel their hearts breaking and never shed a tear?

The helicopter loomed ahead; sinister black, poised like a grotesque insect about to take flight.

"I don't want to…"

Veld stood back a little, and merely opened his hand. "After you, Mrs. Shinra." Lucia took a last desperate glance around the empty roof. The long black blades of the helicopter began to turn. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Lucia stepped into the throbbing machine with a film star's grace, Veld, at her back, her solitary audience.

Rufus's ice blue gaze was steady as he focussed on the target. Beside him he heard Seb Domino curse as his shot went wide, but Rufus wasn't easily distracted. Squeezing the trigger of the gun he held confidently in his right hand, Rufus nodded, satisfied, as he hit the very centre of the target. Seb said, "Good shot, Rufus."

"Thanks."

On his right, Dominic's voice was as sneering as ever. "_Lucky_ shot, Rufus. Bet you can't do it again."

Rufus didn't even look at him. He took aim and emptied the magazine into the target. All the bullets hit the mark, most squarely in the centre. Seb grinned at Dominic, who glared back. Rufus just walked away.

Leaving the firing range behind him, Rufus crossed the vivid green synthetic surface of the tennis courts and entered the school through the side door that led to the music rooms. He walked rapidly, looking straight ahead, but as he passed the last practice room he paused. Sacha was there, playing his cello. Rufus listened. Sacha had improved a great deal in the last year, helped by the fact that Lloyd put all his effort into teaching the boy now that Rufus was no longer his pupil. Sensing someone watching, Sacha turned. Seeing Rufus he smiled, lifted the bow from the strings and leaned the cello against his chair. Opening the door he asked, "Rufus! Won't you come in?"

"No. But that was good."

Sacha nodded towards the upright piano that stood against the back wall of the little room. "I could use an accompanist…" Rufus felt the familiar longing steal over him. His fingers ached to touch the keys again, but he knew that by now he would be horribly out of practice. And he had sworn never to play again. He shook his head and Sacha sighed. "Such a waste, Rufus. Everyone thinks so."

"Yes. Well." Rufus looked away, along the corridor. Sacha had learned not to push things with Rufus. He was a gentle boy – calmer than his confident twin, Seb, kinder than Dominic, cleverer than Freddy – and the closest thing Rufus had to a friend. "So what've you been doing then?" Sacha asked.

"Target practice."

"Why?"

Rufus frowned. "It's on the list of things my father approves of me doing. He says I'll need to be able to defend myself. He thinks a man needs to be able to handle a gun."

"Seb says you're good."

"Not as good as Freddy. He's a born sportsman. He says he'll take me hunting – teach me to use a shotgun."

Sacha looked at his friend curiously. "Is that something that interests you?" Rufus shrugged. "I don't care about it at all. But if I have to learn to shoot, I have to learn to shoot better than everyone else, or I'll be a loser. My father wants me to win everything, all the time."

"No-one can win everything all the time. _My_ father thought he'd won – being elected Mayor of Midgar. He thought he could make things better for people. But now that Shin-Ra effectively rules the planet he has no say in anything anymore. Does that mean he's a loser?"

Rufus wasn't sure how to answer Sacha's question. He was sure that his father would say, yes, the Mayor had lost his position, lost his power. In Julius Shinra's eyes that would definitely make him a loser. Not wanting to hurt Sacha, Rufus avoided answering directly. "How does _he_ feel about it?"

"I'm not sure, but I know it makes him angry. He says he's a glorified librarian now. But I don't think he's a loser. I think at least he tried. He worked hard, and he got to be mayor, and he's a good man. That's better than never trying, isn't it?"

"Yes. But I don't think being good works in politics and business. It's just about power and money, as far as I can see. It's not interesting. You're lucky, Sacha – you can do what you like. When you're a famous cellist maybe I'll get time to come to one of your concerts." Sacha took a breath and ran his long fingers through unruly dark hair. "Rufus – I know you don't want to talk about it, but please tell me, why did you stop playing? You were so much better than me – you really could have been famous." Rufus shook his head. "You're right – I don't want to talk about it."

"But you can't just stop loving music! You used to compose, too. Don't you still _think_ music, even if you don't play?" Rufus didn't look at Sacha, but he nodded slowly. "I do," he said. "I think it all the time. I –"

The music master, Lloyd, approached along the corridor, and Rufus turned to go. He knew he had disappointed Lloyd terribly by giving up music, and the teacher had been coldly polite to him ever since. But Lloyd called, "Rufus Shinra!"

Reluctantly, Rufus turned to face his former mentor. "Yes, Sir?"

"The head wants to see you in his office now."

"Yes, Sir."

Rufus knew something was very wrong as soon as he entered the head's office. The head was looking hard at something on his desk, and when he raised his eyes to look at Rufus he couldn't hold the boy's gaze.

"Mr. Lloyd said you wanted to see me, Sir?"

"Yes. I sent him to find you. Uh – Rufus, sit down please." Waiting until Rufus was seated in the same large leather chair he had occupied six years ago on his first day, the head stood up, cleared his throat, sat down again.

"There's no easy way to say this," he began. Rufus felt the first stirring of dread deep inside his body – a strange queasy sensation. "What is it, Sir?"

"I'm afraid there's been an accident. It seems a helicopter crashed, and…"

"Who?" asked Rufus.

"Your mother. I'm very sorry."

"I…" Rufus was lost. He hadn't known his mother well, and the force of his sudden grief was shocking in its unexpected intensity. He knew he was going to cry so he got to his feet and whispered, "Thank you for telling me, Sir. I'll be… in my room." Then he turned and fled before anyone could see his tears. When he reached his room Rufus locked the door behind him, leaned against it, and sobbed.

Eventually there were no more tears left to cry. Rufus washed his face, then lay on the bed, thinking about his mother. She had always been there, in the background of his life, beautiful and a little remote. He thought she had loved him. He had never realized, until now, how much he had adored her.

As always, there was music running through his head. When he thought about his mother he heard a tune; bright notes, fluid as bird song, joining into a melody that was beautiful and fragile. Grabbing a pen and yellowing manuscript paper that had lain on the bookcase untouched for over a year, Rufus began to scribble down the music, never pausing to think. It flowed out of his mind onto the page, whole and perfect. He had just finished writing when he was startled by a knock on the door. Forgetting that he'd locked it, he called, "Come in!"

The handle rattled and Sacha's voice called, "Rufus? Are you all right?"

Rufus let Sacha in. The dark-haired boy was surprised by how calm his friend looked; Rufus was as smartly dressed as ever, his blond hair neat, his eyes dry. Sacha said, "I'm so sorry, Rufus."

"Who told you?"

"It's on the news. It's _all_ that's on the news. Every channel."

"Oh! I suppose it would be…" Rufus went over to the laptop on his desk and turned it on. Sacha was right – the story was everywhere. The screen filled with images of Lucia: wedding photos, stills from her films, posters, magazine covers – Rufus's mother's dazzling smile broadcast around the planet. There were other pictures too – a patch of grey, churning ocean where the helicopter had gone down – paramedics in Junon waiting beside an empty ambulance - grim-looking members of Shin-Ra security standing outside the Shin-Ra building in Midgar – more ocean, strewn with wreckage. Rufus clicked onto a scrolling news channel and watched with Sacha as reporters told and re-told the story of his mother's death. The helicopter, it seemed, had simply fallen out of the sky. The weather had been a little windy, but nothing exceptional. Due to the extreme depths of the Junon trench where the helicopter had sunk, it was almost certain that the wreckage, and the bodies trapped within it, would never be recovered. A thorough search of the area had been made, but it seemed clear that there were no survivors.

Rufus watched a pretty, blonde reporter interviewing a suitably sombre Veld. The reporter could hardly contain her excitement – probably this was her first time covering a big story. Veld's familiar voice sounded strange modified by the computer's small speaker. "Yes, I escorted Mrs. Shinra to our heliport on the coast, south of Midgar, where she boarded a second helicopter to Junon."

"And what do you think might have happened?"

"It would be pointless to speculate at this time. Shin-Ra will, of course, be conducting a thorough investigation."

"How did Mrs. Shinra seem, on the journey to the Shin-Ra heliport?"

"Perfectly normal. She was pleased to be receiving the film academy award. It's a tragedy."

The reporter's face assumed an expression of grave sorrow that looked as fake as the yellow of her hair and the orange of her tan. "Yes indeed. And all of us at Life News would like to take this opportunity to extend our sincere sympathies to Lucia Shinra's family – her husband Julius Shinra, and their ten year old son Rufus."

"Rufus is twelve," Veld said, off camera. The reporter ignored him, and continued, "Across the planet people have already begun to express their grief at the tragic loss of such a great actress. More on that from Allura Gilden in Midgar…"

The picture changed to show another young woman – dark-haired this time, but equally orange, standing in front of the Shin-Ra building. The ground outside the main doors was already smothered by a mass of flowers, notes, balloons and soft toys. Rufus saw a pink moogle toy with "Alwayz love u L. S." written across it. The camera focused on it for a moment, then zoomed out to show the reporter with one arm around a weeping woman in a grey raincoat. "How are you feeling about this tragic turn of events?" the reporter asked, her tone a perfect parody of friendly concern. The woman snuffled, wiped her eyes and shook her head. "I loved her!" she exclaimed. "She was my favourite actress. She was so beautiful, and you could tell that she really cared about people, you know? This is the saddest day of my life." The woman sniffed, and the reporter pushed her away gently, turning back to the camera with bright, excited eyes.

Rufus switched the off laptop and stood still, staring at the blank screen. He felt empty. Beside him, Sacha reached out silently and took Rufus's hand in his own. Rufus said nothing – remained still. But he held on tight to Sacha's warm hand, and found that the touch of another person made him feel better.

The room grew darker. At last Sacha said, "You should try to sleep, Rufus. I suppose your father will come to take you home tomorrow."

Rufus let go of Sacha's hand, and shook his head. "He won't come. He'll send a car."

Sacha noticed the sheets of music scattered on the bed. He picked them up, peering at the notes in the dim light. "You wrote this?"

"Yes."

"For your mother?"

"Yes."

Sacha gathered the music into a neat pile and gave it to Rufus, with a little smile. "It's good, Rufus. Keep it. Play it, one day."

Rufus nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Sacha leaned forward suddenly, gave Rufus a clumsy kiss on the cheek, and left the room quickly, closing the door softly behind him.

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**Thanks for reading.**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter ten, in which we find out how Reno got his tattoos, among other things...

Chapter warnings: Reno gets some action! With a girl! You know what they say - don't like, don't read XD.

R&R if you feel so inclined...

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Reno, Sixteen

No-one reported the death of Reno's father. Joe da Silva died in an alley one warm night, out of his mind on Hype, propped against a metal trash bin in the Sector Five Slums. Reno heard about it from another addict a few days later, by which time Joe's body had disappeared – probably removed by one of the Shin-Ra security patrols that swept the slums periodically to reassure the plate-dwellers that the company cared for _all_ the citizens of Midgar.

Lying very still, staring at the colourful designs painted on the ceiling of _Skin Deep_ – the best tattoo parlour in Sector Four – Reno tried to remember why he'd thought this was a good idea. Gaia, but it hurt! The artist had tried to tell him: "Why not start with something on your arm, or your back? You might find it hard to keep still, so close to your eyes…" But Reno knew what he wanted. Ever since the night of his tenth birthday when he'd made himself feel stronger by scratching red lines along his cheekbones, the defiant image of himself in the mirror had remained in his head. The lines echoed the curving claw-marks that decorated the grip-tape of his skateboard. They were the colour of his hair – of his mother's hair. He was an orphan now - he lived on the streets and survived by stealing from that otherworld up on the plate - but he'd made it to sixteen, and Tseng of the Turks hadn't caught him yet! That was worth celebrating.

Reno sighed, thinking about Tseng. He knew it was only a matter of time before the Wutaian Turk sprung a trap he couldn't get out of. There had been some close calls lately, and it was getting increasingly difficult to fence the stuff he stole. There was a price on his head that would be difficult for most slum-dwellers to resist – hell, Reno had almost considered turning _himself_ in when he'd first seen the number of zeros on the wanted leaflets posted up in the slum markets! But in the slums mistrust of Shin-Ra ran deep, and there were plenty of people who wished the fiery redhead well in his battle to stay alive and out of Shin-Ra's clutches.

Reno was pretty much resigned to the idea that Tseng was going to get him eventually. Part of the reason for having the tattoos, he acknowledged, was to mark himself as _somebody_ – a real person, not just another Turk hit. Identifying signs.

The pain was over, and Reno sat up, looking at himself in the mirror the tattooist held up. The man nodded. "Looks good, Red. Wasn't sure when you asked – but, yeah. Suits."

Reno studied his reflection and smiled. The new tattoos didn't look strange or unfamiliar at all. They looked – right. Pulling a fifty-gil note from the pocket of his new, stolen jeans, Reno paid the man. "Thanks," he said.

"They'll have to change the posters now," the tattooist said, with a wink. Reno looked shocked for a second, then grinned. The past year had taught him to make quick judgements about who was friend and who was foe.

"You got that right!" he exclaimed.

The man laughed. "Get going kid. Keep moving."

"Thanks."

The evening found Reno sitting on the roof of a four-storey apartment block overlooking his old building. He hadn't been back to this neighbourhood since the night he'd killed Lauder, but hearing about his dad's inevitable death had affected him, however much he tried to pretend he didn't care. From up here he could look right into his old apartment. The TV was on – he could see the green glow – and a tired-looking woman appeared in the living room every so often, talking to a trio of scruffy kids who sat in a row on the couch staring at the screen. Reno thought it was the same couch he had slept on for the first fifteen years of his life.

"Over, yo!" he told himself, wondering what he was doing here. He wasn't part of this place any more. His parents were gone, and he was a shadow – a Shin-Ra target clinging on to life by virtue of speed and luck. Getting up to leave, Reno checked the roof automatically, before running quickly down the fire-escape to the ground. The street was just as he remembered, but with more potholes, if anything. He turned to head back to the abandoned church he had made his home, when a soft, female voice behind him said, "Reno?"

Reno spun to face the speaker, his hand going instantly to the knife he always carried in his pocket. The dark girl – Jess – leaned against a wall, watching him. She was still small, but her face had changed; sharpened. She was a young woman now. With a little, wary smile, she said, "I thought it was you."

"Yeah. Good to see you again, Jess."

Jess looked down then raised her eyes to his. "They said you killed someone?"

"Yeah. Self-defence, yo."

"I figured. They said…"

"What?"

"That Shin-Ra Turks have been asking questions about you."

"Yeah."

Jess shook her head, the long, dark hair Reno remembered swinging softly with the motion. "I wouldn't tell them anything," she said. "If they asked me."

"Nothing to tell, yo."

"Not yet." She gave Reno a long, thoughtful look, then she said, "C'mon."

"Where?"

"Mine. My pa's away. He works on the docks, in Junon. It's just me, since mom left." Reno hesitated, wanting to trust her; not sure that he could. Not sure what it was she was offering, or what she wanted from him. She smiled, slowly. "Up to you. I've got hotdogs and beer. You could stay…"

"I don't want to make trouble for you. If anyone finds out…"

"It's okay, Reno. Come on, if you're coming." Jess walked away, along the trash-strewn street. Reno watched her, wondering. Then he followed.

Jess's apartment was very similar to the one Reno had lived in. She gestured to a low couch. "Have a seat," she said. Taking two cans of beer from a loudly humming refrigerator she wandered back into the sitting room and handed a beer to Reno before switching on the TV. She sat on the couch next to Reno, making him glad that he'd sneaked into the factory where he used to work, so that he could wash in the staff bathroom before going to the tattooist. Trying to keep clean had turned out to be the hardest thing about living on the streets. Despite Lauder's words, Reno had found it easy to avoid people who might be a danger to him. He was too fast and too wary to get caught that way, and the slums were full of half-built or half-ruined buildings that were empty all the time. No – the worst things about living rough were the most mundane – boredom, the discomfort of sleeping on the ground, finding places to wash. Since he'd discovered the church, sleeping had been easier. He'd pulled two old wooden pews together and slept under them, the sturdy wooden seats creating a fairly weatherproof roof. But the ground was still hard, in spite of his stolen sleeping bag. This couch was nice, though. Comfortable.

Jess drank her beer and gestured towards the TV. "Shame," she said, with a little shrug. "She was a good actress."

Reno looked at the screen. A news programme was showing scenes from Lucia Shinra's memorial service. Reno frowned, seeing the now-familiar world above the plate. Then he sat up, staring at the screen intently. "Hey," he said, "Who's that? The blond kid in the white suit? I know him."

Jess glanced at him, then laughed. "Sure you do, Reno," she said. "I bet he asks you round to tea all the time."

"No – seriously. I mean, I don't _know_ him know him, but I saw him once – years ago, up on the plate. In a huge white limo."

"That's Rufus Shinra, idiot. Don't you watch TV?"

"Not now, no."

Jess realised her mistake, and shook her head. "Sorry. I guess you don't. Yeah – that's the president's son. Doesn't look too sad about losing his mom, does he?"

Reno scanned the images. He recognised the president, of course. And behind him, just to the right, the familiar face of Veld. As the camera panned across the gathered crowd Reno spotted Tseng, watching the people watching the president. Julius Shinra was making a speech, but Reno paid no attention. He looked at Rufus Shinra – the boy's frozen face and downcast eyes provoking unexpected sympathy. Reno said, "He is sad. It's just – when you lose someone – you kinda shut down."

"Oh," said Jess, softly. "Yeah – I heard about your mom. I'm sorry."

"Thanks."

The silence between could have been awkward, but somehow it was okay. Reno felt comfortable with Jess. Something about her quiet, matter-of-fact manner was relaxing. He wasn't surprised when she leaned over and kissed his mouth gently. Reno started to kiss her back, suddenly on fire, but she pulled away smiling. "Food first," she said. "You look half-starved." Going to the kitchenette to make hotdogs, Jess glanced back over her shoulder. "Don't worry, Reno," she said. "We've got all night."

Jess was a good cook. Reno told her so enthusiastically as he finished his third hotdog. Jess laughed and said, "I hope you're this keen about everything." Reno turned away so that she wouldn't see that his face had gone the colour of his hair. Truth was, between looking after his mom, working nights while trying to keep up with school, and running away from Shin-Ra there hadn't really been any opportunity to find out. He laughed a little shakily and said, "Hell yeah!"

"Reno?"

"Yeah?"

"I was only teasing. We don't have to – if you don't want –"

"No!" Reno turned to face her, scared he was getting everything wrong. "No, Jess, Gaia, I do want! It's just – I haven't."

"Oh." Jess looked at him carefully, trying to decide if he was serious. She suddenly felt much older than seventeen. Reno touched her beautiful hair. "I…I'm not going to be around, you know?" he said. "The Turks are gonna catch me one of these days, and that'll be game over. I can't drag you into all that. I'll have to disappear tomorrow, so I guess it would be better if we didn't…"

"Better for who?" Jess asked. "Because if you mean better for me, I don't think so. I used to watch you on your skateboard when we were kids, and even back then, the way you moved…And you don't have to worry about anything, because even if you _haven't_, I _have_, and I know what I'm doing. I want to." She touched Reno's cheek, just below the new tattoo, then kissed him there, then kissed his lips. Her mouth was soft and warm, and Reno thought he could kiss her forever, but she had other ideas. She took his hand, gently, and said, "Let's go to bed, Reno."

In the end it was easy, because they wanted each other so badly, and because, as she had promised, Jess, at least, knew what she was doing. They undressed each other between kisses, Reno exclaiming at the beauty of her smooth skin, her small, high breasts. She smiled at that and said, "It's okay to touch, Reno. I want you to." He didn't need telling twice. What he lacked in experience he more than made up for in enthusiasm, Jess guiding him gently when he was unsure.

There was one awkward moment when, through the ecstasy of new sensations, the memory of school sex ed lessons intruded long enough for Reno to freeze and say, "Oh shit! I haven't got any condoms, yo!" Jess laughed and stroked his hair, looking into his eyes. "I've got plenty. I had a boyfriend for a while, before. Relax. We're good, aren't we?"

"So good…"

If the first time was over a little quickly it didn't matter, because, as Jess had said, they had all night. By the time they finally curled up together, overcome by exhaustion at last, the light was already as bright as it ever got under the plate. Jess smiled, as she drifted towards sleep in Reno's arms. "See?" she murmured, "I always knew you'd be good."

Reno woke to the soft touch of Jess's lips against his own. He opened his eyes and smiled at her, then frowned when he saw that she was dressed. "I have to go to work now, Reno," she said. "I just wanted to say goodbye – and thank you, for last night." Reno sat up, feeling bereft. He knew, that for Jess's safety, he had to leave. He desperately wanted to stay.

"Oh Reno, don't look so sad! It was fun, wasn't it?"

"It was…the best. I wish…"

"Me too. But you can come back, whenever you like."

"I can't. You'd be in danger. Jess…"

Jess kissed him again. She was smiling, but her smile was fragile. "Help yourself to breakfast. Use the shower – whatever you want. I have to go."

"Thank you. Not for breakfast – I mean –"

"I know Reno." Jess held his hand; kissed him for the last time. Then she gave a little wave, and walked away. Reno heard the door of the apartment close quietly behind her.

When he reached the old church later in the morning, Reno crawled into his sleeping bag and closed his eyes, but for a long time he couldn't sleep. His mind was full of Jess - her gentle beauty, her dark eyes, her long, soft hair. "At least, if Tseng kills me," he thought, "I'll have had last night." Eventually tiredness overwhelmed him, and he slept.

Tseng could hardly believe his luck. It had been over a year since he'd been ordered to bring Reno in, and the kid had constantly evaded him. Now, on a surveillance mission to keep an eye on a young girl Shin-Ra knew to be descended from the Cetra, Tseng had stumbled across Reno by complete coincidence, fast asleep in the church the little Cetra girl liked to visit. Silently, Tseng fastened his standard-issue handcuffs around the young man's slender wrists, experience having taught him that Reno would use any chance to escape. Drawing his weapon, Tseng kicked one of the heavy pews aside, the crashing and splintering of wood waking Reno.

Reno opened his eyes, disoriented. Tseng noticed that the kid was sporting two red tattoos; curving lines emphasising his cheekbones. Reno gasped, green eyes widening as he looked along the barrel of a long, black pistol and up into Tseng's dark eyes. The Wutaian Turk smiled calmly. "Hello, Reno," he said. "It's a pleasure to meet you, at last."

* * *

_Finally_ - Reno's caught!

Thanks for reading.


	11. Chapter 11

**Sorry for the delay in getting on with this story, and thank you very much to Licoriceallsorts for helping with some difficulties of plot and timeline. **

**Thank you, too, to everyone who has reviewed and stuck with this story. **

**This chapter starts a day before Chapter Ten ended, but then moves forward.**

**Chapter Twelve jumps forward a year. Things will start to move faster - I promise!**

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Rufus 12, Reno 16

Rufus let the day of his mother's memorial service drift past him. He felt oddly detached from everything that was happening around him – the crowds, the cameras, weeping strangers and half-remembered acquaintances - friends and colleagues of his father's. It seemed to Rufus as though he were trapped at the centre of a kaleidoscope – the still point about which chaotic colours and patterns reassembled themselves relentlessly. He registered fragments – a pale-faced woman shouting out, "Look! He's just like her!" Mayor Domino, Seb and Sacha's father, telling him in a nervous, quiet voice how sorry…His father giving a speech about a woman Rufus didn't recognise as his mother, delivered in a business-like fashion more suited to the boardroom than to a memorial service, betraying no emotion. In a flash of understanding, it struck Rufus that there was no emotion to betray: his father wasn't grieving at all.

At one point in the afternoon, as his black, open-top limousine made its way through the crowed streets following the flower-strewn hearse containing the symbolic empty coffin, Rufus found himself looking into the bespectacled blue eyes of a blond boy a few years his senior who stared at him strangely from the ranks of mourners and spectators. Something about him was familiar but Rufus couldn't remember having seen him before – and then the car moved on, and the boy was lost among the blur of faces.

All day Rufus stood where he was required to stand, moved when he was told to move, spoke only to answer direct questions or to give unfelt thanks to people who offered formulaic condolences. When he caught sight of Veld, who was coordinating security for the entire event, the Turk director gave him one unreadable glance, then looked away.

At the end of the day, Tseng appeared at Rufus's shoulder and said, "Sir? It's time to go." Calm as always, the Wutaian Turk ushered him gently into another long, black car, and drove him back to the Shin-Ra building.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Sir," said Tseng formally, glancing at Rufus in the mirror as he drove. The boy was even paler than usual, Tseng noticed. He seemed more closed in on himself than ever.

"Thank you," Rufus replied, automatically in the same flat tone he'd been using all day. Tseng shook his head. "No – I _am_ sorry," he told Rufus, sounding suddenly human. "I met your mother several times, if only briefly. I think she was…a good woman."

Rufus nodded, but said nothing, holding on tight. Just now kindness was harder to deal with than indifference. Perhaps that was the purpose of the polite, meaningless phrases; they allowed equally meaningless responses - kept feelings at bay.

Tseng suppressed a sigh and tried not to think about the last few days – the expression in SOLDIER Second Class Lee Gale's mako blue eyes just before Tseng's finger had tightened on the trigger.

Turning down a side street, Tseng finally managed to leave the crowds behind them. After a long silence, he said, "I've played your piano occasionally, Rufus. As you asked."

The unexpected memory shocked Rufus out of his secure numbness. "But – I – I told you – I'm never playing again!"

"Yes. But you didn't take back the request."

"Oh. Well – don't bother any more. There's no point. I haven't played a note since that day, and I never will. I'm sure Turks have better things to do, so…don't waste your time."

"As you wish."

The rest of the journey passed in silence until, as they pulled up outside the main doors of the Shin-Ra building in Sector Zero, Rufus quietly asked, "Is it…still in tune?"

"As far as I can tell, yes. I don't have your perfect pitch, but – I think so."

"Ah." Rufus hesitated, then said, "Well…I suppose…if you _do_ have the time…"

"Of course."

Tseng opened the car door for Rufus, then escorted the boy into the Shin-Ra building, across the lobby and into one of the twin elevators. As they travelled up to the president's private rooms, Tseng said, "Your father has scheduled a meeting with you at nine in the morning. I have other duties tomorrow, but would you like me to arrange an alarm call for you?"

"No – thanks. I'll be awake in time. Where's the meeting?"

"In the president's office."

"Of course it is." Rufus gave Tseng a cynical little smile. "Where else?"

Tseng thought that no child should look so world-weary, so young. As they reached the door to the presidential apartments Tseng asked, "Is there anything you need, Rufus?"

"No – thank you. I'm…fine. Rufus gave another ghostly smile, and vanished into his rooms, closing the door quietly behind him.

No, reflected Tseng, no child should have to be so locked down, so self-reliant, so alone. And yet – the SOLDIERS, the Turks – weren't they almost always alone when they were recruited? Alone, and very young. Tseng had been just short of eighteen when Veld had recruited him – but that was old by Shin-Ra standards. Sephiroth had been on active service in Wutai at fifteen, although Sephiroth was something of a special case.

But Rufus was only twelve.

Still, Tseng told himself, it was different for Rufus. Rufus wasn't some candidate for SOLDIER, or a Turk recruit. Rufus was Shinra – would _be_ Shin-Ra.

Perhaps, for someone with that destiny, learning to be alone from an early age was not a bad thing. More than that - perhaps it was necessary?

Tseng turned away. He had surveillance duty early in the morning – the little Cetra girl, Aerith. Another one whose destiny was beyond her own control. Another one whose fate was inextricably linked to Shin-Ra, for good or ill.

* * *

Instinct compelled Reno to close his eyes, but he gathered all the will he possessed and forced himself to open them again. Tseng was watching him, the black pistol still trained on his forehead. Trying to keep his voice steady, Reno licked his dry lips and managed, "W-What are you waiting for?"

Shaking his head slightly, Tseng replied, "I'm not going to shoot you. Not unless you try to run."

"You're not going to kill me?"

"No. Reno – you were asleep when I found you. If I wanted you dead, you'd be dead. We're not in the business of making people suffer unnecessarily."

Reno breathed in sharply, experiencing a cold thrill of fear at the thought that he could already have been dead. It was only Tseng's will - Tseng's plans for him - keeping him alive. Well, he'd been living on borrowed time for over a year now. He wasn't about to complain if the Turks were going to let him borrow a bit more.

Sitting up rather awkwardly and resting his cuffed hands on his knees, Reno looked up into Tseng's dark eyes. Head on one side and giving a cocky grin that almost succeeded in hiding his fear, Reno asked, "So – what took you so long?"

"_You_ did. Longer than any other candidate actually."

"Candidate?"

"Yes. I'll explain once we're back at headquarters." Tseng lowered the gun and took a PHS out of his pocket with his other hand. He kept his eyes on Reno as he made a call. "Lex. Bring the car up to the church. I've – found Reno. Yes – he's…restrained." Tseng slipped the PHS back into his pocket and addressed Reno. "We need to go. Do you remember Lex?"

"Yeah, I do," said Reno. "The blond guy – the night my mom was in trouble. He saved her – with Mr. Veld."

"It's just Veld. Or 'Boss'. He's the Director of the Turks. I'm his second-in-command." Tseng put away the pistol. "We need to get going."

Reno jumped to his feet then wished he hadn't, the adrenaline in his system making him dizzy. Shaking his head to clear the stars dancing in front of his eyes, Reno was relieved to discover that, although he was still trembling slightly, he could walk without his legs giving way. He was surprised to find how much it mattered to him to make a good impression on Tseng.

The car appeared at the street corner, and Tseng opened the back door, gesturing for Reno to enter. For just a second, as he climbed in, Reno considered taking a chance that the opposite door would be unlocked, sliding straight across the seat, out of the door and away into a side alley before the two Turks could catch him. But then he remembered Tseng's gun and whatever weapons Lex, in the driver's seat, might possess.

Lex looked over his shoulder as Reno entered and nodded. "Reno. Had a feeling I'd be seeing you again."

"Lex."

Lex's blue eyes followed Reno's involuntary glance at the door handle on his side of the car, and the blond Turk grinned. "Yeah, it's locked. I thought you'd think of that."

"Right. Predictable, yo."

"Not so much – after the run around you've given us! But I would've been disappointed if you hadn't started looking for ways out the minute we caught you."

"However, it would be in your best interests to come with us," Tseng pointed out, taking the seat next to Reno, and pulling the door shut firmly. "There's nothing left in the slums for you now, after all."

Reno thought of Jess, but kept quiet. Nothing would make him tell the Turks about her – nothing in the world.

The black car pulled away with the quiet purr of a well-tuned engine.

After a few blocks, when he thought Tseng's attention was on the PHS in his hand, Reno surreptitiously tried the door handle. It _was_ locked. Out of the corner of his eye, Tseng noticed and allowed himself a small smile. Veld had been right about this one. Recruited from Midgar's social elite, or dragged in kicking and scratching from the slums – it made no difference. All Turk candidates shared the same basic make up: a combination of intelligence, wit, physical and mental strength – and an overriding instinct for survival. Tseng looked at Reno and saw a Turk, just as Veld had done more than a year before. Untrained and raw – yes. But a Turk, none the less.

* * *

Rufus was awake more than three hours before his meeting with the president, but that didn't stop him from being a very deliberate fourteen minutes late. If the old man was going to schedule meetings with his own son as though he were an inconvenient bit of business that had to be got out of the way, then Rufus wasn't going to make things easy for him. Rufus knew enough of his father's character to work out the perfect number of minutes to keep him waiting. Five minutes' lateness was forgivable, ten was irritating, fifteen would lead to a summons from an underling when Julius Shinra's notoriously short fuse ran out.

Fourteen would guarantee the maximum amount of annoyance without granting his father the relief of a furious reprimand for forcing him to send someone to fetch his errant son.

Rufus checked his watch, and knocked on his father's door.

Julius was on his feet, a scowl on his red face, as he snapped, "Rufus – I said nine. Where've you been?"

"Oh – sorry," replied Rufus breezily, looking at his father from under the fashionably long fringe that fell across his eyes in a way he knew the president would hate. "Am I late?" He affected a yawn, rewarded by the flash of anger in his father's pale eyes.

"Sit down!" Julius snapped. "I don't have time to waste!"

"Yes, Sir." Rufus, who never slouched, did a good impression of it – half lying in the expensive leather chair and scraping the heels of his immaculate shoes along the deep pile of the carpet for good measure. To compound his sins, Rufus stuck his hands in his jacket pockets, gave a tiny shrug of the kind his father had always loathed, and asked, "Well?"

Julius Shinra frowned. "Your teachers say your focus has improved, but it seems your attitude hasn't!"

"What – so this is about _school_?"

Julius actually looked puzzled. "Of course. What else?"

Rufus dropped his pretence of adolescent indifference instantly as genuine fury replaced it. He sat up straight in his chair, pale and shocked, his expression a startling combination of disbelief and cold hate. "What else? Fucking Hell, Dad – _what else_?" It was the first time he had ever sworn at his father, but Julius looked more surprised than angry. "Oh," he said, understanding beginning to dawn. "I suppose – you mean your mother."

Rufus was so taken aback by his father's casual tone that he could hardly force words out. On his feet now, he slammed his fists down onto the president's huge desk. "_Yes_! Yes I mean my mother! I can't believe that you never even _thought_ – What's _wrong_ with you?"

"Rufus – sit down." The president's tone was calmer now.

"I don't want to sit down!"

"All right – but – calm down. You have to understand, son, that things haven't been…That is, your mother and I – well – we were as good as separated a long time ago. There was another man – a SOLDIER called Lee Gale – a Second…"

"I don't believe you!"

"It's true. I'm sorry, Rufus, but I suppose it's best that you know."

"She wouldn't…"

Julius extracted an envelope from the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a small pile of photos. Selecting one, he slid it over the desk to Rufus. Looking down – not wanting to touch it – Rufus registered that it was his mother, in the arms of a dark-haired, young man who was clearly wearing a SOLDIER uniform. Rufus had no idea what to say. His father shook his head. "It was probably my fault. I was always so busy…" He sighed. "I know her death was a terrible shock for you. It was for me too, of course, in spite of... But – you didn't know her well Rufus."

"I – it – didn't matter. She was still my mother."

"Of course."

Rufus looked at his father, not knowing what to do or think. He said, "This SOLDIER…Who?"

"He was killed in Wutai."

"Oh."

"Rufus – I do think you'd be best off back at school with your friends. The head tells me you get on well with Domino's boys."

"Uh – yes. Yes – Sacha –" Rufus suddenly found that his father was right. He wanted to be back in the familiar world of school. He couldn't think here, couldn't focus. Just when he thought he'd understood something about his father – about the company – just when he'd begun to play the game a little – everything changed.

"Your teachers say you're doing very well now. Mr. Drasius tells me you're top in business studies. Go back to school, Rufus, and succeed. Take your exams. When they're over, there's a place here waiting for you – as Vice President."

"But I'll only be fourteen."

"Yes. Well – you won't officially become VP until you're eighteen. You'll start like I did in my first job – getting to know the company from the inside, working in different departments. Shin-Ra has the best of everything – the best scientists, the best engineers. You can learn anything you want – go on operations with the Turks, train with SOLDIER – opportunities open to no-one else. And – you haven't had much time for fun in your life yet. When your exams are over, I'll send you on holiday – you can spend some time in Costa del Sol – meet some pretty girls."

Rufus felt completely disorientated. He felt his hatred for his father slipping fractionally; his adoration of his mother tainted. And despite his determination to hate Shin-Ra and everything it stood for, Rufus couldn't help feeling a thrill at the idea of being able to work with the Turks - or perhaps he'd even get to meet Sephiroth! Julius Shinra saw the gleam in his son's eyes and for the first time in years he recognised himself, rather than Lucia, in Rufus.

Rufus had entered his father's office playing the cocksure adolescent: he left it feeling like an uncertain child again. Julius handed his son over to a tall, bald, impressively-muscled Turk wearing dark sunglasses, who introduced himself as Rude.

"Escort him down to the car," President Shinra told the Turk. "Veld's waiting to take him back to school."

"Yes, Sir."

Back behind his desk, Julius Shinra picked up the photograph of his deceased wife with her lover. Before he put it back into the envelope along with the other, more explicit images he hadn't shown Rufus, he studied her beautiful, faithless face once again. "You've lost him, Lucia," he murmured, with a little, malicious smile. "He's back on track now. _My_ son. My company. My world."

* * *

Reno asked, "Tseng – if I _promise_ not to try to escape – will you take the handcuffs off before they drive me crazy, yo?"

Tseng looked at the new recruit. The kid was still small for his sixteen years, but his face had changed – matured and sharpened since Tseng had first seen the photo of him, in the file on Lauder's murder, over a year ago. Reno's expression was often more wary now – more knowing – but there was still something innocent in it that Tseng had missed in Rufus yesterday. Reno retained something of a child's ability to live in the present, Tseng thought. Now, for example, his assumption of a hopeful, wide-eyed look made him appear the picture of sincerity, but his green eyes were sparkling with an irrepressible sense of mischief. Oh – the girls in the offices weren't going to stand a chance around this one!

Tseng smiled slightly and asked, "But can I trust you Reno?"

To his surprise, Reno gave him a steady, serious look and said, "Yeah, boss – you can. 'Cause – I've done stuff – killed Lauder – you know that – stolen things, told plenty of lies, yo. But – never broken a promise." Then the grin was back, flash of even, white teeth and a careless shrug. "Maybe, partly, 'cause I hardly ever make 'em…"

In the driver's seat, Lex laughed aloud. Tseng hesitated, then took the key from his pocket and unfastened the cuffs. Reno tore them off as if they burned and rubbed his thin wrists gratefully. "Ah – that's better! Fucking hate not being able to move around man!"

"Never tell people your weaknesses," Tseng admonished. "Anything they can use against you…"

"Oh – right!" replied Reno cheerfully. "Have we started?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Is this, like, training now? Because I'm listening, yo! Only – you said 'candidate' and Veld – before – was talking about working for Shin-Ra…Or – oh, is there an interview or something?"

"No, Reno. No interview. Being a Turk isn't that kind of job. Besides – I think we can consider the last year as your application."

"Yeah, but – you caught me in the end." Reno looked a little crestfallen at the thought. "Did you follow me? I thought I'd pretty much worked out a safe route."

"No – actually it was pure coincidence," Tseng admitted. "I was at the church on other business – and there you were."

"Ah! So I didn't screw up then. That's good to know." Reno's happy smile faded as quickly as it had come as he reflected, "Still would've been dead though, if you'd wanted…"

"Yes. But you can't plan for coincidences – twists of fate. There's another lesson – plan for every eventuality you can think of, but don't waste time worrying about things you can't control."

"Right. Got it. What else?"

Tseng smiled rather wearily. The kid was surely keen – but did he ever stop talking? The Turk Second-in-command's smile widened a fraction as a plan came to him. He had the perfect counterpoint to Reno's restless disposition and runaway mouth – a certain strong and quiet Turk of nearly four years' experience, whose usual partner had recently been killed in a very unfortunate accident on what should have been a routine mission in Junon. For the last five months Rude had been paired up with a variety of other Turks – but no obvious match had become apparent.

Yes – the more he thought about it, the more Tseng could see Reno and Rude working well together – if Reno didn't drive the big guy crazy with endless questions.

"So," Reno asked, practically bouncing in his seat… "Are we nearly there yet?"

Lex laughed again. Tseng sighed.

* * *

Rude escorted Rufus to the elevator, entered first, as security protocol dictated, then stood aside to allow the president's son through. Rufus walked to the outer edge of the circular glass elevator, looking down through the murky air to the radiating streets of the upper plate, and the hunched domes of the reactors. The low hum of the descending car was the only sound. About half way down the tower, they passed the twin elevator, ascending, and for a moment Rufus's eyes met those of a boy he recognised standing between Tseng and Lex. He had time to register the vivid red hair, the confident stance – the boy with the skateboard from years ago.

"Who _is_ that?" Rufus demanded, his eyes locked on to those of the older boy until the elevator had passed.

"I'm sorry sir, I don't know. I've never seen him before," Rude replied, frowning. He hoped it wasn't some new recruit – the boy had _slums_ written all over him, from the hair, to the tattoos, to the unabashed way he had stared at the president's son – and in Rude's experience, kids from the slums meant trouble.

"_I've_ seen him before, though," said Rufus, struggling to remember what Veld had said at the time. Something about a hospital? "He was skateboarding. He was really good."

Skateboarding. Hmm. Another minus point as far as Rude was concerned.

Incredulously Rufus asked, "Did he have tattoos – on his _face_?"

"Yes, Sir. People from the slums…" Rude didn't finish the sentence, reflecting that his own multiple piercings were hardly standard above the plate either.

"He didn't have those before. At least – I don't think so. I can't remember…"

"Was it a long time ago?"

"Yes. Five years or so. I think I'd only been at school a short time. But I do remember him. There's… something about him…"

When the other elevator had descended out of his view, Reno turned away from the glass and looked at Tseng. "That was Rufus Shinra, wasn't it," he said. It wasn't a question, and Tseng approved the boy's certainty.

"Yes – that's Rufus. You won't be seeing much of him though – he goes back to school today."

"Back to school? But his mother's memorial service was only yesterday! Wouldn't he want to be at home? Or – maybe he doesn't get on with his dad, huh? 'Cause I can relate to that…"

Without commenting on the president's relationship with his son, Tseng observed, "And yet, you risked your life to save your father's, as I recall…"

Reno shrugged, but his open expression closed down instantly. "Yeah – well. Family – you know?"

Lex nodded; Tseng shook his head. Neither of them replied. Tseng kept his thoughts to himself: Welcome to Shin-Ra, Reno. Your new family. At least as dysfunctional as your old one was – from SOLDIER, to the Turks, all the way up to the president himself.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	12. Chapter 12

**As promised - a year has passed. **

**Chapter warnings: Reno's first hit - so - death. **

**Please R&R.**

* * *

Reno 17

From their very first mission together – the traditional routine patrol of Sector Eight – Rude had been convinced that he would hate working with Reno. The kid was so unkempt – his ludicrously slap-dash approach to getting dressed in the morning made Rude flinch every time the meticulous older Turk saw the whitish material of Reno's un-tucked shirt protruding from beneath the hem of his jacket – the unfastened buttons, the almost invariably missing tie. The only thing Reno seemed to spend any time on was that crazy volcano of a hairstyle – if _style_ was the word for it – that seemed to retain its carefully chaotic structure no matter how much trouble they got into to – no matter how many monsters they had to fight. And Gaia, the kid could talk! When he wasn't joking around, or telling Rude gleefully about some secretary coming on to him, or going into way too much detail about the latest girl he'd met in a bar, or reporting gossip he'd overheard about someone in SOLDIER, or asking his endless, trivial questions – when he finally ran out of words – would he fall quiet and be still? Of course not. He'd pace about and hum, or whistle, or tap his EMR against something…Rude wondered whether Reno was actually allergic to silence. Even the way he spoke was irritating, Rude found. His constantly slangy speech, the _yo_s and the _man_s, the _wanna_s and the _ain't_s – the _endless_ double negatives - all grated on Rude's nerves.

And yet – from that same first mission Rude had found himself frequently surprised by the spiky-haired slum kid. On their first patrol, Reno had calmly sorted out a fight between two civilians and a Shin-Ra security guard – not with his newly issued EMR or his fists, but with a few words, a grin and a joke. Then, when they'd encountered an unusually large monster – some kind of crazy-saw that shouldn't have been out above ground – Reno had proved exceptionally fast, darting in under the creature's guard to dispatch it with a well-aimed jolt of electricity before Rude had got in one good hit.

Now – almost exactly a year after that first mission – Rude waited for Reno in the lobby of the Shin-Ra building, and reflected that the kid had never once failed to pull his weight; never let his partner down. And, for all his many faults of appearance and etiquette, Rude would much rather have Reno with him in a fight or a tight corner than most of the other young recruits.

Looking up, Rude saw the red-haired kid virtually skipping down the stairs, twirling something dark in his fingers and grinning madly.

"Hey, partner!" exclaimed Reno, leaping down the last six steps in one go, landing neatly just in front of Rude. "Wanna come for a drink, man? Only – you're gonna have to sub me, 'cause I ain't got no Gs, yo!"

Every one of Rude's pet hates in just two sentences – but the tall Turk found he didn't really mind any more. Taking in his partner's shining eyes and registering that the object he was holding so conspicuously was a pair of dark goggles, Rude asked mildly, "So – you passed then?"

"Yep! Not only passed – passed one hundred percent, yo! You are looking at the first ever Shin-Ra helicopter pilot to get a perfect score!"

Rude was impressed, but not really surprised. Reno had a natural ability with machines and anything involving spatial awareness. It had been apparent to everyone from Reno's first training flight that he belonged in a helicopter. Reno loved flying, and he was interested in mechanics and electronics. He'd read everything he could get his hands on concerning helicopters, surprising both Rude and Tseng with his ability to study. When Reno wanted to, he could concentrate and focus for remarkable blocks of time – all it took was a little motivation.

"Well then," said Rude with the small smile that told Reno he was genuinely very pleased, "Let me buy you a drink to celebrate. Goblins Bar okay?"

"Where else, yo?" Reno settled the goggles onto his forehead and arranged his hair around them. "Borrowed these from the examiner. Figured – should look the part now I'm qualified. Hey – they keep these long bits of hair out of my eyes too! 'Stylish _and_ practical' as Suki in admin's always saying whenever she blows half her paycheque on new gear. How do I look, huh?"

"Hmm. Like – a pilot, I suppose. The examiner's not getting those back, is he?"

"Nope!" confirmed Reno happily. "Let's go!"

Tseng reported the results of Reno's flight exam to Veld who nodded. "Yes. I heard. There's no doubt the kid's good in a helicopter. And he fights well. But – you know what I'm going to say, don't you?"

"Yes. And I have been looking out for something suitable. But nothing's come up. It's been mercifully quiet lately."

"It has. But he's seventeen now. It's only going to get harder."

"I was eighteen."

"I remember." Veld gave Tseng a long, even look, and Tseng nodded. "You're right, of course. I'll… sort it out."

"He has to learn that being a Turk isn't just fighting monsters and flying helicopters. It's all been much too easy for him so far."

"I…know."

Veld nodded. "There have been targets. The girl – Freya – she's killed twice now. And she joined after Reno."

"Yes – but she trained for it for years. Reno's … well, guns aren't one of his strengths."

"Then the sooner he learns, the better." Veld's scarred face was stern, but to Tseng, who knew him well, his dark eyes were sympathetic. "I know. You spent a year chasing him – you're bound to feel more responsible for him than for someone like Freya who's been through the academy and knows what to expect. But it has to happen – and soon."

"Yes. I'll make sure it does."

"Good." Necessary business over, Veld allowed himself to smile. "A perfect score, hmm? We still know how to pick 'em, don't we?"

"_You_ do. You knew the moment you saw that file on Lauder's death – didn't you?"

"I had a feeling…" Veld agreed. "Sometimes – you just know."

Less than a week later Reno found himself standing in Tseng's office holding an ordinary brown cardboard file in hands that wouldn't stop shaking. The file was only remarkable in having absolutely nothing written on the front, but Reno had heard enough rumours to know what that meant. He hoped that Tseng hadn't noticed his treacherous body's response to the adrenaline flooding through him.

"You know what this is?" asked Tseng, his voice cold and professional.

"Yeah. Kill order."

"Right. Take it back to your desk, read it, come back when you're done."

"Yes, Sir."

Reno sat at his desk and glanced around the office. Lex was typing up a report; Rude was zipping up his jacket, about to leave on some one-man surveillance job; everyone else was out. Reno looked down at the file lying on the glossy wood of the desktop. He knew that inside would be a name, photographs, a location, and details of the crime this person had committed against Shin-Ra. A small collection of facts and images – the outline of a life. A life Reno was expected to end.

He'd known from the start that this day was coming. Veld had made it quite clear when Tseng had brought him in: being a Turk involved doing whatever needed doing to further and protect the interests of the company. _Whatever_ needed doing. Reno had listened to Veld, and said yes, he understood, he agreed.

But this was real.

What if he couldn't do it?

Reno realised he was holding his breath, and forced himself to relax. No point putting it off, yo! Just open the damn thing.

Reno turned over the front cover of the file, and found himself looking into the eyes of the man he was going to kill.

In his office Tseng waited, remembering his own transition from someone who had killed, to killer. He'd done what he could to make it easier for Reno than it had been for him: the target in Reno's file was unquestionably guilty of crimes by anyone's standards, not just some unfortunate clerk who'd got caught up in something big enough to become a nuisance to Shin-Ra. Theoretically this mark was eminently killable, and as like Lauder as Tseng would ever be able to find - but he knew it was still going to be the hardest thing Reno had ever done. Possibly it would prove to be the hardest thing he would _ever_ do, because the clichés were true – like so many skills, assassination was mainly a question of practice, and, yes, it did get easier over time.

Sometimes Tseng felt a jolt of – what? Fear? Conscience? – when he realized just how easy it had become. Killing someone like Reno's target wouldn't give Tseng a moment's pause these days: mark eliminated, report written, the man would be forgotten. Occasionally there were still assignments that made sleeping difficult afterwards - that made him question…

But it wasn't his job to question.

Moving to the glass wall that was one of the perks of being Veld's second and having his own office, Tseng looked down into Midgar. He tried to focus on the hazy outlines of the city; tried to let his mind go blank. Tried not to think about Lee Gale – dead a year now - the young, stupid SOLDIER whose only crime had been loving the wrong woman. The fear in Gale's supernaturally blue eyes had been mixed with scorn. His last words were burned into Tseng's memory: "What do you know about it, Turk? You know nothing!"

The hardest part had been looking Rufus in the eye afterwards – offering condolences while knowing the truth. And yet Tseng had meant every word: he had been sorry; he _did_ believe that Lucia Shinra had been a good woman. But he was also a Turk, and he did what he was ordered to do.

When Reno entered the office Tseng could already see the change beginning to take place: the merciless annealing necessary to survive as a Turk. It was the first time Reno had ever appeared in Tseng's office without a smile. Now his mouth was hard; his eyes frightened, but full of the determination Tseng had assessed over the past year as being one of his greatest strengths. He carried the file in one hand – the other, at his side, clenched and unclenched.

"You've read the file?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Questions?"

"Mission statement mentions backup. Would that be Rude?"

"No, Reno. That would be me." Reno's eyes widened slightly, but he made no comment. Tseng looked at him, unsmiling. "Anything else?"

"There's no schedule. When do I…"

"Are you armed?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Then let's go."

Reno almost gasped, but caught himself. Tseng hadn't expected that level of self-control from him. Reno nodded, and followed Tseng out of the office, into the elevator and down into the car park. The normally chatty younger Turk never said a word on the way, but when they reached the car he asked, "Do I drive?"

"Yes. It's your mission. Do you know where we're going?"

"Sector Five. Twenty-first Street. Block eighteen. Building five. Apartment three one three."

"Good. Target's name?"

"Shaw. Elson Shaw."

Tseng was impressed. The redhead had the whole mission memorized, it seemed. As Reno drove out of the car park, leaning out of the window to wave his security pass at the automatic barrier, Tseng asked, "And why has it become necessary to eliminate Mr. Shaw?"

Reno kept his eyes on the road ahead, but his hands gripped the steering wheel hard enough for Tseng to see the white bones of his knuckles beneath his pale skin. "Because he's fucking scum," snarled Reno. "That's why."

Tseng glanced at the young Turk's face, a little concerned by the vehemence of Reno's reply. If there had been such a thing as a Turk Training Manual, that would definitely not have been the textbook response.

"Remember that this isn't personal," Tseng said, suddenly realizing that by choosing Shaw he had, in effect, made it exactly that. "This is a job – nothing more."

"Yes, Sir," Reno replied, an edge to his voice that made Tseng uneasy.

"Make it quick," Tseng told Reno in the elevator on the way up to the third floor of building five, block eighteen. "Remember your training. Knock, get the target in the room and make sure you're alone. Shut the door, check the target's identity, aim, shoot."

"Right." Reno pulled the standard-issue black leather gloves from his pocket and put them on. Then he pulled the standard-issue black pistol from the inside pocket of his jacket and fitted the silencer. Taking off his jacket Reno handed it to Tseng and said, "Hold that a second, would you, Sir?"

Tseng took the jacket and watched, frowning, as Reno freed his hair from its usual ponytail, unfastened two more buttons on his already open-necked shirt and pulled the cuffs down over his hands to hide the gloves.

"Thanks," Reno said, retrieving his jacket and draping it over the gun.

The elevator rattled to a halt.

Looking at Reno, Tseng's uneasiness grew. For a second he wondered whether to call it off – send Reno back to the car, and do the job himself. But it was far too late for that.

Feeling unaccustomedly apprehensive, Tseng waited a little way along the corridor just around the corner nearest to the door of apartment three one three. Reno didn't hesitate. Tseng heard him knock, heard the door opening, and a pause, before a deep voice said appreciatively, "Ohhh – you must be one of Hayes' boys, yes?"

"Whadda _you_ reckon?" Tseng heard Reno drawl, his accent suddenly more slum Street than the older Turk had ever heard it, "Ain't'cha gonna ask me in, yo?"

"Come on in, gorgeous."

Tseng heard the door close.

Reno glanced around the expensively furnished apartment. No-one in the living room. "So," he said, looking at Shaw, mentally matching each feature of the man's handsome, confident face to the photograph in the file, "We all alone here, yeah?"

"Oh yes." The expression in Shaw's hooded, grey eyes was one Reno recognized: it was Lauder's.

That made things much easier.

When he saw the gun Shaw's eyes widened, but he didn't look especially shocked. "Oh come on!" he said, with a little frown and an impatient wave of one hand. "If this is about Hayes and his money, I'll sort it with you after."

Reno shook his head. "I'm not one of Hayes' boys."

He took aim.

Then Shaw blanched, and Reno saw the fear in his eyes. "B…but…who?"

"I'm one of Shin-Ra's boys."

The fear turned to terror.

Reno pulled the trigger.

It wasn't a perfect shot – but it was good enough; above Shaw's left eye rather than dead centre. Reno shook his head. "Always did over-compensate for being left-handed." Shaw's body remained standing for an instant, then fell backwards onto the carpet. There was much less blood than Reno remembered from Lauder – just some around the entry wound, and a fine spray across the white wall near to where Shaw had been standing. The back of Shaw's head was probably a mess – but that wasn't Reno's problem.

Taking off the silencer, Reno slipped on his jacket and put away the gun, before opening the door cautiously. Seeing the corridor was empty, he closed the door and walked back to Tseng, fastening his shirt buttons as he went.

The look in Reno's green eyes made even Tseng want to shiver, but he only said, "Mission accomplished, I take it?"

"Yes, Sir. We're done."

"Any problems?"

"No."

"Good work, Reno."

"Thanks."

They had left the car parked two blocks away from building eighteen. In the slums it would have been a shell by now – stripped of anything saleable, and left wheel-less, propped on rubble. Up here on the plate it was untouched. Reno opened the door on the driver's side and made to enter the vehicle. Tseng asked, "Are you all right to drive?"

"Yeah. Fine."

Tseng nodded, and walked around to the passenger's seat, still feeling faintly uneasy. Veld's words replayed in his mind: _It's all been much too easy for him so far_.

No-one should be this composed after their first hit. Tseng had seen Reno's near panic and shaking hands when he'd been handed the file: that was as it should be. But ever since they'd left Tseng's office his demeanour had changed completely. This cold, controlled efficiency was unexpected and unsettling. And Tseng had been disturbed by Reno's decision to play one of Hayes' boys to gain entry to Shaw's apartment, when a simple step forward and a flash of the gun would have done the job perfectly well. Perhaps finding a target whose crimes so closely echoed Lauder's had been a mistake?

Reno drove. He said nothing, which _was_ unusual. Tseng looked at the younger Turk's slender hands, steady on the wheel, as the car headed back towards Sector Zero.

"So – when do we go after Hayes?"

Reno's abrupt question took Tseng by surprise. "What do you mean, Reno?"

"_Hayes_," said Reno, a touch impatiently. "The file on Shaw made it obvious that Hayes is the bigger player. The slum connection – prostitution – the disappearances. Just because Shaw lives on the plate not below it – he wasn't the one running things, right?"

"You're probably correct. But it's not our job to speculate."

"_One of Hayes' boys_, he said. You heard that, yeah? You know what he wanted – what they do! … Hayes needs to be eliminated too."

"That's not our remit. Hayes has done nothing against Shin-Ra – directly, at least. Shaw got greedy."

Reno's eyes narrowed. "So – what? Hayes just carries on? And we let him?"

"Hayes is not our concern."

"But –"

"This mission is over. Just take us home." Tseng glanced at Reno. "Okay?"

Reno had been concentrating on the conversation while navigating the streets of Sector Five automatically, but he suddenly realised that he recognized the street they were on. As they waited at traffic lights, Reno looked to his right and saw the curves and ramps of the skate-park where six years ago he'd shown off his skills to a wide-eyed Rufus Shinra, just over the road from here – Rufus only a little kid, watching from a white limousine pulled up against those park railings. To Reno's left the still-pristine whiteness of the Sector Five General Hospital gleamed softly in the hazy light.

His mother's voice in his mind: _The Turks – Shin-Ra – big organizations like that are full of violent men. _

_ Not okay, Reno. _

_ Not okay._

But Shaw was just like Lauder, and Reno had never regretted killing Lauder for a single moment.

So much less blood than Lauder. But – sprayed against the wall like that! And the horror of that neat, black hole in Shaw's forehead – only a little red around the edges – but so dark and so…final.

_Not okay_.

Beside him, Tseng said, "Reno – the lights."

Reno's foot jerked off the brake and onto the accelerator, too hard. The car leapt forward, juddering. Reno swore. Suddenly his hands were shaking, refusing to obey him, and his heart was pounding against his ribs.

"Pull over," Tseng ordered.

"I'll be fine."

"Pull over."

With some difficulty Reno obeyed, pulling into a parking bay at the side of the road outside the hospital. He turned off the engine, and took a shaky breath. "Fuck. Oh fuck."

"It's adrenaline. Delayed reaction. Are you going to be sick?"

With a slight gasp, Reno shook his head. "I'll…be fine. Ah – but_ - fuck_!"

"Breath."

Reno nodded, and Tseng watched, relieved, as his newest killer fought for control, and won. After a few minutes he asked, "All right now?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want me to drive?"

Reno met Tseng's gaze and shook his head. "No. I'm…good."

Tseng was quietly pleased when, a few seconds later, Reno restarted the engine and pulled away smoothly, as though they'd never stopped at all.

Rude watched Reno swinging the beer bottle in his fingers, seemingly absorbed by the way the constant horizon of the liquid contrasted with the varying angles of the green glass. The red-haired Turk wasn't drinking. He wasn't talking, either, which bothered Rude more.

"Bad day?" asked Rude at last, when it seemed Reno's moody silence was going to last all night.

Reno looked up at his partner, and didn't smile. "Tseng gave me a blank file today."

"Hmm. First one's the worst."

Reno shook his head. "That's not it. It was – easy. But –"

"Still shakes you up, huh?"

"Yeah. But it's not that either. It's…why him? Because he did something against Shin-Ra, yo! But – whole lot of other people involved in the same nasty shit – worse than he was - and we don't touch them."

"We're not a crime-fighting unit, Reno. Not the police."

"No. Just … assassins. I get that."

"Then – what?"

"I don't…" Reno stared down at the stained wood of the tabletop, in the dark corner of Goblins Bar, as though he might be able to read answers in the pattern of rings and scratches. Glancing up at Rude again, Reno said, "When I first met the Turks – Lex and the Commander – they saved my mom, for no reason, except she was in trouble. I guess I thought…"

"Right."

"But I signed up for _this_."

"We all did."

Reno sighed. "When Tseng caught me, I thought I was dead. And then – they give you so much, don't they? The job – the way people –" The shadow of a smile crossed Reno's face for a moment. "The way _girls _look at you in the uniform…Flying…Ah, I fucking love flying, man!"

"I know you do."

"I guess…I've been on kind of a high ever since Tseng brought me in. But...this is the real job now."

Rude nodded. "This is the real job." Rude took a packet of cigarettes from inside his jacket and offered it to Reno. Reno hesitated, then shrugged. "What the hell? She's gone, and I'm not gonna be around long enough…" He laughed, harshly. "I told her I'd get a job no-one could look down on. One that people respect."

Rude lit Reno's cigarette for him, and then his own. "This _is_ a job people respect," Rude observed, his tone neutral. Reno gave a cynical smile. "Yeah. They respect us all right. They're too scared not to. We don't give them any fucking _choice_!"

Reno took a long drag on his cigarette, downed his beer in one go, and got to his feet. "My round, partner," he told Rude, looking down at the older Turk with bright, hard eyes. "What're you drinking, huh?"

Tseng completed his report, printed the required three copies, and decided to deliver the Commander's personally.

Veld was still working, although everyone but security and cleaning staff should have been off the clock by this hour. The Commander's huge, sparsely furninshed office was dim, suggesting that Veld had worked through sunset without noticing the change in the light. The green glow of the laptop screen illuminated his strong, scarred face, casting deep shadows. Veld looked up as Tseng entered.

"Tseng. You should be at home by now."

Tseng smiled and merely observed, "Ditto."

"So – how did it go?"

"Well – I think. I was worried for a moment, but…yes. It went well."

"But – you still thought you'd bring the report in person?" Veld looked at Tseng more carefully and closed his laptop, switching on a desk lamp instead. The lamplight was whiter – harsher - making Tseng blink. It lit the immediate area around the desk, leaving the corners of the office dark. Beyond the night-dark glass of the windows the lights of Midgar glowed. Superimposed on the city, Tseng saw the image reflected: himself, Veld, the desk, spot-lit like a theatre scene.

"Sit down, Tseng."

"Thank you, Sir. It's just –"

Veld held up one hand, and said, "Let me read this." Tseng waited as his Commander scanned the report, frowning slightly twice, and nodding once. When Veld looked up again, his expression was an odd mix of anger and understanding. "I see. So you're worried about the role play, or the questions?"

"Both. I don't see why he felt the need to assume that role."

"I think you do. You see that this wasn't the right hit for him, don't you?"

"Yes. I was… trying to make it easier."

"For him, or for you?"

Tseng looked up sharply, stung by the truth, even as he acknowledged it.

Veld shook his head. "It _shouldn't_ be easy. You know that, by now!" The commander's dark eyes were merciless: Tseng struggled not to flinch under the intensity of that glare.

"So?" asked Veld, his voice deceptively quiet.

"I…made a mistake." Tseng shook his head, furious at himself – ashamed. "I wanted to make it easy on him – and for me…because…"

"Go on."

"Because I always resented _my_ first hit. Because it was so… That poor, stupid bastard…and I thought, if Reno had a situation he recognized – someone so obviously _evil_… But it only made it worse. It was personal – he put himself back in the role of Lauder's victim – didn't he?"

Veld nodded, and his eyes never left Tseng's. Veld waited, and the silence tautened between them, until Tseng made himself continue: "Only this time – he had the power. So he found it easier, but it was revenge, not a hit. I – really fucked up."

"Yes."

Hoping that Veld would contradict him – knowing that he wouldn't – Tseng said, "He's going to have to do another one. Soon."

"Within the week, I would suggest. There are two candidates – I was intending to send Rude and Lex. You can decide which target Reno takes. Choose more carefully this time."

"I'm sorry."

"I know you are – but it changes nothing. That boy has the potential to become one of our best. Your job is to make damn sure that he does. There is no room for sentiment in this profession: I trust that you understand that now. I thought you already did. I'm disappointed, Tseng."

"Yes, Sir."

"Go on – get out. Do better."

Tseng walked out of the circle of lamplight and across the office, grateful for the darkness. He kept his head up until he'd shut the door behind him, then leaned against it for a moment and closed his eyes, breathing out. Veld had a temper – could rage and shout – but his quiet disappointment was a thousand times worse.

As he made his way back to his own office, Tseng replayed his own actions and Veld's words in his mind – the heat of self-recrimination and anger gradually cooling to acceptance and understanding. There was something else, too; an unexpected sense of release. Tseng examined his feelings, and found that the bitterness he had always felt about that first hit – the hapless office-worker who had begged and cried, and whose face had become his recurring nightmare for months afterwards – had transformed into something less harsh. Veld hadn't been vindictive in his choice after all – just deliberately hard. And it had worked, because Tseng now struggled to recall the details of his second hit, or his third… Reno, however, would probably find the second more difficult than the first, and that was Tseng's fault.

Tseng sighed, switching his laptop back on, and calling up the files on the two targets Veld had been going to assign to Rude and Lex.

_No point in dwelling on things you can't change_, Tseng told himself. _Learn, and move on. And make damn sure you get it right this time._

_

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**_


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you very much to CameoAmalthea for spotting a timeline error in Chapter 12 fast enough for me to fix it before too many poeple read the story!**

**Thank you, too, to all the kind reviewers.**

**Rufus is fast approaching the end of his school career, and looking forward to ruling the world.**

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**Rufus, 14**

The long evening light shone softly through the stained-glass windows of the common-room, splashing jewel colours across the desks and onto the wooden floors – deep, glowing sapphire, dark emerald, and the rich ruby of the Shin-Ra logo, blood-bright. Rufus looked up from his revision notes, and gazed at the windows. The artist had incorporated the distinctive company logo into a traditional design: shields; scrolls bearing mottos in the language of the Ancients; flowers and heraldic beasts. Although it was all skilfully done, Rufus hated the jarring juxtaposition of old and new – the vulgar fakery of it. Shin-Ra was a new company, leading the world into the future. What was wrong with celebrating that with modern materials – modern art? He much preferred the Shin-Ra building – concrete, clear glass, metal and the reactors' green mako light – eerily beautiful against Midgar's habitual darkness.

As the end of his time at school approached, Rufus found himself increasingly impatient to start work in the company. He wanted to understand how everything fitted together – the different departments – the roles of the executives – the research, the development of ideas – the way Shin-Ra shaped the world. The more he read about Shin-Ra, the more it seemed to him that his father wasn't running things as effectively as they could be run. Without music to focus on, Rufus's active mind had turned to the problems and challenges of Shin-Ra in spite of his original determination to hate the company because he hated his father. He was beginning to have ideas about the future – directions he could take Shin-Ra in that his father would be too cautious to explore. Recently all Rufus's daydreams seemed to begin with the thought _when I'm president_… As far as he was concerned, that day couldn't come soon enough.

_When I'm president_ –

"Oh, Rufus, what's _this_?" Rufus' reverie was broken by Dominic's sneering voice. Irritated, Rufus looked round to find Dom peering over his shoulder at the long-forgotten revision notes. Frowning, Rufus replied, "Notes for the exams, of course. What else?"

Dominic snatched up Rufus's open file and crowed, "Not only notes, though, is it? What's this part here – a _poem_ – for your _boyfriend_?"

"What're you on about? They're just Economics notes."

"Why does it say _Sacha_ at the top, then?"

Rufus's reaction wasn't what Dominic had hoped for. The heir to the Shin-Ra empire looked annoyed, but not remotely embarrassed. Sacha, on the other hand, curled in an armchair with some thick, leather-bound tome he was re-reading for the Literature exam, suddenly froze. Dominic noted the tension in his narrow shoulders, and grinned to himself. Rufus asked, "Where does it say _Sacha_?"

"Here." Dominic pointed to the corner of the page. "And there's a _picture!_"

Rufus glanced at the file and shook his head. "Don't be a prick all your life, Dom. That's not a picture – it's just a line of music. Not that someone of your quite remarkable ignorance could be expected to know that, of course. I thought of it while I was making the notes, that's all."

"Oh, I see. Sorry."

From his desk on the other side of the room, Sacha's twin, Seb, looked up sharply, instantly mistrusting Dominic's apologetic tone. It was apparent that Rufus felt the same, because the blond boy's blue eyes narrowed dangerously as he waited for the inevitable follow up. He didn't have to wait long.

"Yes, I see now," said Dom deliberately, making sure he had the attention of the whole room. "Of course. It's not a poem for your boyfriend. It's a _song_ for your boyfriend."

Freddie, who had given up trying to revise and was sitting on a window seat staring out over the courtyard, gave a little snigger, then looked a bit ashamed of himself. Seb bridled. Sacha kept his eyes on his book, his whole body still. Rufus just shrugged. "No – wrong again. Just a _tune_ for my _friend_ who's a cellist. Not as though you could read it anyway…" He looked up at Dominic, his expression deceptively mild. "Do you have a _problem_ with any of that, Dom? Just say if you do, because I haven't done any combat training for a couple of days, and I could use the practice…"

"Oh…no," replied Dom, airily. "If you want to go around writing music for your boyf – I mean, for your _friend_ – that's none of my business…"

Seeing that Rufus wasn't going to rise to his taunting, Dominic sauntered over to Sacha's chair and thrust Rufus's file in front of him, knocking the book aside. "There you go, Sacha! How do you like the tune little Rufus wrote just for you?"

Sacha didn't look up or reply. His cheeks were blazing. In unison, Seb snapped - and Rufus ordered - "Leave him alone!"

Dominic smiled. "Your twin and your… friend… doing the talking for you now, are they, Sash? What – you can't speak up for yourself?"

"Piss off, Dom," muttered Sacha, not meeting Dom's eyes. Dominic gave an exaggerated sigh, and shook his head in mock sorrow. "You see, that's just unnecessary!" he said. "Seems to me you're very defensive for someone who's got nothing to hide. Maybe you're not Rufus's boyfriend, but you _wish_ you were, huh? Am I right, or am I right?" Sacha ignored Dominic, who grinned and leaned closer in a pseudo-confidential manner. In a low voice that was still perfectly audible to the rest of the room, he said, "Don't worry, Sash. I know Rufus loves you really. He's just got to fake it so he can live up to his old man's reputation as a ladies' man." Shooting a malicious look at Rufus, Dom continued, "Isn't that right, Rufe? Your dad's marrying again next week, isn't he? A class act this time, I hear – old family. Not some – admittedly hot – actress, or a bit of rough from the slums…"

Rufus crossed the room in a second, and pinned Dominic against the wall, one arm across the taller boy's throat.

"My mother was _not_ from the slums!" snarled Rufus, pressing his forearm hard against Dominic's windpipe. "You take that back – now."

"Not…your… mother…ah Gaia!"

Rufus eased up a fraction – just enough to allow Dominic a shaky breath.

"I'm not talking about your mother," Dom gasped, his eyes glittering with some emotion Rufus couldn't read. Not fear though – more like…anticipation. "…Talking about his mistress – mother of the bastard son."

"What?" Rufus was so surprised the edge vanished from his anger. "What trashy gossip site have you been visiting?" he scoffed. "That's total bullshit!"

"It's not bullshit! I heard my parents talking. Everyone knows – except you! Your dad had some rough-as-fuck bit on the side in the slums and their son's just started working for Shin-Ra. You've got a half-brother who's older than you because your dad isn't as gay as the guys in a _Loveless _chorus-line, unlike you! So go on – fight me if you want, Rufus fucking Shinra – but it's all still true!"

"You're lying." Rufus pressed his arm back across Dominic's throat – hard. Dominic struggled, but Rufus was a lot stronger than he looked: years of martial arts training had made sure of that.

"Tell me you're lying, or those are going to be the last words you ever say," Rufus hissed, his eyes gone dark with utter rage. Dominic's fingers clawed weakly at Rufus's arm. Rufus released the pressure again.

"Well?"

Dominic shook his head. "It's true!" he coughed, gulping air. "It's all true! Everyone knows." Dom jerked his head back towards the other boys who were watching, aghast, but he didn't take his eyes off Rufus. "_They_ all know. Ask them."

"Liar!" Rufus slammed Dominic back against the wall, both hands around his neck, squeezing. For the first time an expression of panic appeared in Dominic's grey eyes. Rufus smiled. "Yes. You get it now, Dom? I'm not fucking around. I'm sick of you, and your stupid comments, and your lies. You're dead."

Dominic's eyes widened with shock. He twisted frantically now, but Rufus just held him in place, tightening his grip remorselessly. Behind him Sacha said, "Rufus – stop!"

"Yes, Rufus – that's enough!" Seb's worried voice agreed.

Dominic's lips were turning blue. Rufus watched as his struggles became weaker, feeling nothing but satisfaction. Then Sacha and Seb grabbed his arms, Sacha prising his fingers from Dominic's bruised neck, pulling him away.

"For Gaia's sake, Rufus, you'll kill him!" Seb cried, hanging onto Rufus's right arm as he tried to attack Dominic again. Sacha, holding onto Rufus's left wrist with both hands, said quietly, "Leave him Rufus. He's not worth it. He's worth nothing."

Rufus turned to Sacha, his blue eyes still coldly furious. "But you heard what he said! All those lies. What was I supposed to do?"

Hesitantly, Seb said, "Yes – but – people do say…" His voice tailed off as Rufus turned on him, his expression murderous. Dominic had sunk to the ground where he lay slumped against the wall, gasping like a landed fish. When he could speak again, he croaked, "You're a fucking manic, Shinra! My dad's going to sue your ass for this!"

"Oh shut up Dom, you pathetic piece of shit!"

Seb stared at his usually quiet, non-confrontational brother, impressed. "Well said, Sash!"

Then the twins turned to look at Rufus.

Calmer now, but white-faced with apprehension, Rufus forced himself to ask, "Seb? What _do_ people say?"

Seb looked at the floor. "They… they say that your…that the president – had an affair – and he has a son…"

"But – who says so? It can't be true! I'd have known…"

"Our dad said we weren't allowed to mention it," Seb told him apologetically.

"It's just gossip. It must be! I can't believe –" Rufus looked at Sacha – the person he considered his closest friend. "You knew about this too?"

Sacha nodded miserably. Looking Rufus in the eye, he said, "I'm sorry."

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't anybody tell me?"

Rufus looked at the four boys he'd spent most of the last eight years with. Dominic had been an enemy from the start. Freddy – who still sat by the window looking anxious and wondering what to do – had been more of an acquaintance than a friend, despite the time they'd spent hunting together while Rufus learned how to use a shotgun. But Seb – and especially Sacha… The twins had been his constant companions throughout school. He had believed that Sacha was like him: Sacha understood music – had seemed to understand _him_.

But Sacha was like all the rest – keeping secrets from him. Laughing at him behind his back.

Everyone knew. The Turks would certainly know – it was their job to know everything. Veld – who had always looked after him – who had driven him to and from school dozens of times… Tseng – who had been so kind to him when they had come for the piano, and on the day of his mother's memorial service… Knowing all the time. What had they been thinking? _Poor, stupid, ignorant Rufus, kept in the dark while the rest of the world is privy to his family's most intimate secrets?_ Or did they laugh about it in their offices high up in the Shin-Ra building – mocking the ignorance of the sheltered heir? Their pity or their scorn - both equally unbearable.

Had his mother known? Was that the reason she had embarked on her own affair with SOLDIER Second Class Lee Gale?

And his father. His father sitting in his office, sorrowfully telling Rufus about his mother's sins, omitting to mention his own. The lying, manipulative, hypocritical bastard. The hate that had begun to wane in Rufus over the last two years waxed full again; flooded through him, left him shaking.

Rufus looked at each of the four boys in turn, staring them down, refusing to accept Dominic's defiance, Freddy's regret, Seb's guilt, Sacha's sorrow. Not one of them could hold his gaze.

He was still Rufus Shinra. He never backed down. Never cried. Always stood his ground.

"Get out, all of you," he said, quietly.

One by one they left. Freddy went first, then Dominic, with a little, disdainful snort, then Seb, glancing anxiously at his twin brother. Sacha didn't move.

"You too," Rufus told him.

"No." Sacha's dark eyes were frightened, but he met Rufus's icy gaze resolutely. "Rufus – I'm sorry. Perhaps I should have told you, but – I –"

"But you what? You couldn't think how to put it? You were scared? What?"

"Yes – I was scared. I was afraid you'd be angry with me – or you wouldn't believe me. I was afraid it would hurt you."

"Hurt!" Rufus spat the word. "Well. You may as well tell me everything now. What do you know?"

"Not much. I know that they say your father had an affair with a woman from the slums. They say she wasn't beautiful like your mother – but…"

"Go on."

"They say he loved her. Their son's called Lazard."

"_Lazard_! What kind of name is _Lazard_?"

Sacha shook his head. "I don't know. But they say he's nineteen now, and working for Shin-Ra."

"But – my father said I'd be the Vice President."

"Then I'm sure you will be. You're the rightful heir, after all."

Rufus looked at Sacha. "And that's everything?"

"That's all I know."

"Why didn't you tell me? That son-of-a-bitch Dom - he just loved telling me. You could've stopped that."

"I'm sorry. It was – weak. I was scared. But not anymore. There's… something else I have to tell you, Rufus."

"Well?" Rufus' blue eyes were still cold. Sacha said softly, "When – when Dom said all that stuff about – you – being my… boyfriend…"

"He's an idiot!"

"Yes – but – the other thing I was afraid to tell you was this…" Sacha was trembling, but he leaned forward and kissed Rufus's mouth firmly. Rufus froze. Thoughts and feelings jumbled together – the shock of the sudden kiss giving way to the pleasure of the sensation – the fear of what acknowledging pleasure might mean – the determination to prove Dominic wrong. Panicking, Rufus pushed Sacha away.

"What the fuck are you _doing_, Sacha? I thought you were my friend – not – some…"

"I love you, Rufus."

"Don't! I don't want to hear this! I can't –"

"Rufus – please…"

Rufus held up a hand in warning. "Go away Sacha! Just – leave me alone!"

Sacha's eyes filled with tears. Rufus snorted, disgusted. Fear made him vicious. "Oh for fuck's sake don't _cry_! Pull it together for the sake of your self-respect – or you'll end up as much of a loser as your old man."

Sacha stared at him. "Don't say that. Why are you being like this?"

"Because I'm not like you! I'm not! And however many bastard half-brothers come crawling out from under the plate – _I'm_ going to be the one running Shin-Ra. I'm going to _be_ something – I'm going to make things happen. I'm not going to end up wasting my life on some pointless, self-indulgent _hobby_ like you. You'll be a second-rate cellist, and I'll be ruling the world, because I'm a Shinra!"

"How can you say that? It's not a… a hobby. You _know_ what it means…"

"No. It doesn't mean anything. It's like you saying you love me, but not telling me about my father and that woman. It doesn't mean anything. Just – go, Sacha."

"But – Rufus –"

"Fuck off!"

Sacha gave Rufus one scared, broken look, and fled.

Rufus sat heavily in the armchair where Sacha had been reading, and looked around the empty room. He felt dizzy, his mind reeling. Trying to breath slowly, striving for control, Rufus concentrated on the jewel colours - fragments of broken light scattered across the floor by the last rays of the setting sun: sapphire blue, emerald green, Shin-Ra red – bloody, rich.

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**Thanks for reading.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Sorry for the long delay, and thank you very much to everyone who has reviewed. **

**The next two chapters are really one chapter that got out of hand, so forgive me if this one ends rather abruptly. All will be explained in Part Two, which should be posted in the next few days. **

**Everybody sing: "We're all going on a summer holiday / No more worries for a week or two"...**

**Only - these are the Shin-Ra guys, so no more worries for - ooh - about five minutes, maybe?**

**Please R&R.**

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Rufus 14, Reno 18

In Costa del Sol - Part One

Rude glanced at his watch, but said nothing. Beside him Lex ran a hand through short blond hair and muttered, "He's late."

Standing a little apart from the two Turks, Rufus Shinra turned from his contemplation of the new darkly gleaming B-3 Arrow Class helicopter, and looked at them. "I'm in no hurry," he shrugged. "I hate Costa del Sol." The boy's tone was flat – his lack of interest genuine rather than assumed teenaged indifference. "Honestly – what's the point of sitting on a beach…" Rufus' voice tailed off, too wearied by the prospect of the upcoming holiday to bother with the question. He knew perfectly well that any sitting on beaches he might do would be scheduled into a packed programme of highly organized sporting and social events. He could already picture most of the faces – people selected from his father's contacts – approved families, with their beautiful, identikit, approved daughters… Rufus had been on a handful of holidays in his life – two weeks mostly spent shopping in Junon with his mother, and a few summer breaks and winter ski trips with his father – or, at least, with his father's bodyguards. The people were always the same, the conversations were always the same, and as he'd grown up, the flattery was always the same too: _Such a good-looking boy_ - _so mature - so talented._

Already so bored by all of it.

The elevator doors hissed open, and Reno stepped out into the hazy light, hands raised in a gesture of mock surrender.

"Yeah, yeah – I'm late – I know!" he called, eyes on Rude, barely sparing Rufus a glance. "I was – ah – unavoidably detained."

Rude scanned Reno's more than usually crumpled suit – the dark stain on his sleeve - and nodded, but his only comment was, "Let's go."

Lex looked over at Rufus and was arrested by the transformation of the boy's formerly sullen demeanour. Rufus' eyes were suddenly bright – his expression almost eager.

"You!" Rufus said, staring at the red-haired Turk. "You're my pilot?"

Rude, who had turned towards Rufus, curious at the unexpected exclamation, could almost feel Reno's internal flinch at the weight of entitlement contained in the boy's automatic _my_. Over the last two-and-a-half years Reno had settled into his new life – had accepted much of what it meant to be a Shin-Ra Turk - embracing most of what the job entailed with the unrestrained enthusiasm that made him popular with his colleagues when it didn't drive them to distraction. But Rude knew his partner well. There was something in Reno – an instinctive rebellion bred out of life in the slums – which, when sparked, made him kick against authority; even the authority of those he respected as much as Veld and Tseng. Rufus could have no idea that his casually possessive words would be incendiary.

Rude didn't have to look back at Reno to know how his partner's green eyes would have narrowed fractionally; how he would be struggling to keep his expression calm, biting back some sarcastic retort. A year ago, Reno would probably have failed at it: now Rude was relieved to hear the neutral-seeming reply: "Yeah, I'm the pilot."

Rude turned as Reno strode past. Reno favoured Rufus with the slightest of nods and said, "All set?" Before Rufus could reply, Reno added, "Then let's go, yo!" and headed for the helicopter, leaving the president's son to follow in his wake.

To Lex's surprise Rufus Shinra made no comment, but walked swiftly after the cocky redhead. The blond Turk noted with interest that the boy's eyes had lost none of their brightness.

When they reached the helicopter Rufus turned back to Lex and asked, "Can I ride in the cockpit? I'd like to see how it's done – flying one of these. I've been on a few flights – but I always had to sit in the back."

Lex smiled at the boy's hopeful expression, but said, "Comes to that, pilot's the boss. Ask Reno."

"Reno." After seven years Rufus had a name to go with the face that had somehow imprinted itself onto his memory. A boy who could make a skateboard fly: a man who could fly helicopters.

Rufus climbed the steps to the cockpit and leaned in. Reno looked across at him from the pilot's seat. The Turk didn't smile. Removing his headset, he asked, "What's up?"

"I'd like to learn how to fly," Rufus said. "Can I watch?" Used to eliciting the desire to please in most of the adults he met simply by virtue of being his father's son, Rufus was a little unnerved by the Turk's cool gaze. Reno appeared to be less than enthusiastic about the idea of giving an impromptu flying lesson. After a silence that threatened to turn uncomfortable, Reno shrugged and said, "Don't see why not." He gestured to the seat beside him and said, "Strap yourself in. Don't touch anything."

Rufus nodded and did as he was told. Reno pointed to the headset hanging on the partition behind the seat and said, "Put that on if you value your hearing, yo!"

Silently, Rufus obeyed. Reno called back, "Rude? Lex? We good to go?"

In his right ear Rufus heard Lex's "Sure thing!" and Rude's low, "Ready." Reno glanced at Rufus and said, "You want real lessons, you're gonna have to clear it with your old man and Veld. I'm just showing you the basics here." The president's son nodded. He sat quietly, watching Reno running through his final checks - flicking switches and reading instruments that meant next to nothing to Rufus.

"So," said Reno, indicating the controls with a lazy wave of his left hand, "Main controls – cyclic – think of it as a joystick more or less – left, right, nose up, nose down. Only – up and down you need to think of more like slow and fast, with up – that's pulling back on the cyclic – making you climb, but slowing you down, and down – pushing the stick forward – making you descend while speeding you up. Clear?"

"Uh – not really…" replied Rufus, turning a rather narrow gaze on Reno, suspecting he was being deliberately confusing.

"You'll get it when we're moving. So – you're controlling speed with the cyclic, okay? But for lift you use the collective – here." Reno pointed to a lever at his left hand side. That's simpler – up's up, and down's down. And lastly –" The Turk gestured downwards, pointing at his boots – "Yaw pedals – or anti-torque pedals. Take your pick with what you wanna call them. They control the tail rotor. When we're flying they keep the chopper in a straight line. When we hover you use them to turn left and right – but you don't have to worry about hovering yet."

"Why not?"

Reno shot Rufus a wolfish grin. "'Cause if you try and hover before you know what you're doing, you'll crash and die."

"I see." Rufus began to wonder if Reno was slightly insane. He wasn't sure that he'd managed to follow any of the Turk's explanations, but he ran through the terms in his head – cyclic, collective, anti-torque – and resolved to watch and learn what he could from his crazy and reluctant instructor.

As soon as they were airborne though, Reno's attitude changed entirely. Leaving the smog of Midgar behind them they ascended into brightness and brilliant blue. Rufus blinked, eyes watering. He noticed that Reno's goggles remained firmly on his forehead. There was a little, contented smile playing over the Turk's lips as he nudged the controls with gentle movements. "See," he said softly, "It's all about how everything works together. It's not a thing you can explain in words – it's just – how it feels. How she responds. No chopper's the same as any other." Reno grinned to himself, and seemed to be on the point of adding something else, but thought better of it.

"Looking forward to the vacation?" he asked instead, as if changing the subject.

Rufus snorted. "No. It's a pointless waste of time. My father's only sending me to divert the press from his stupid honeymoon."

Reno nodded, feeling some sympathy. The boy was right – Tseng had told them as much in the mission briefing. Julius Shinra's second wife, Honoria, was a well-connected, impeccably bred woman much closer to the president's own age than Lucia had been. She was not beautiful, but confident and stylish: not romantic, but practical, and a good sportswoman who hunted and skied. No-one was quite sure why Julius had decided to marry her, or she him, but a wedding was a wedding, and the press attention had been intense ever since the announcement of their engagement. Half the press had descended upon Icicle Inn as soon as the honeymoon destination had been announced; the other half was even now en-route to Costa del Sol to bag photos of Rufus Shinra on holiday.

Rufus sighed. He knew exactly the kinds of pictures and articles that would be filling the papers and news reports in the next two weeks. Any girl – or boy for that matter – that he talked to would be portrayed as a potential life-partner; anything he said would be analysed and gossiped over; anything he wore would be critiqued. There were entire wardrobes of clothes back in Midgar - free gifts from top designers desperate to see photographs of him wearing their labels appearing in the glossy magazines and fashion pages. He'd worked out that just using the 'gifts' he'd been sent in the ten days since the holiday had been announced, he would be able to wear a different pair of swimming shorts every twenty-six and a half minutes, if he felt so inclined.

Which he didn't, in the slightest.

Rufus also knew that the press interest was only going to intensify as he got older. He'd seen the endless photos, postcards, magazine spreads, posters and who knew what else, that were published every week using Sephiroth's image. He wondered how the SOLDIER First Class could stand it.

"The press will be everywhere," he said, frowning.

"Yup. But don't worry. Tseng's had words with the editors. Once you're inside any building you're off limits."

"Never seems to stop them with Sephiroth," pointed out Rufus with a little shrug. Reno laughed. "Yeah – but Shin-Ra _wants_ Sephiroth constantly on display. Hell – P.R. sends him on photo-shoots."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah. I know – I couldn't believe it either – 'til I had to fly him to some place in the desert four or five months back, and they had him posing in front of this giant cactus like some godsdamned fashion model…"

"You've _met_ Sephiroth?" Rufus couldn't quite keep the awed tone from his voice. "What's he like?"

"Quiet. Kinda … still and… weirdly polite. Gaia knows he must be patient! All those idiots were running round him – _stand here,_ _do that again, look up more_… And he just did it all without a word, and everyone acted like they'd forgotten that if he wanted, he could kill them all without breaking a sweat. If it was me, I'd'a lost it with them after about five minutes." Reno laughed. "But then, no-one's gonna be taking pictures of me, yo! Good thing about being a Turk – no-one looks past the uniform."

"Lucky you!"

"Yeah. Some days…"

They flew in silence for a while, and Rufus noticed the small smile return to Reno's mouth.

"You love this, don't you?" Rufus said suddenly. "Flying, I mean."

"Yeah. Best thing." Reno didn't elaborate. Rufus remembered, four years ago now, spending an entire night playing the piano, lost in the music, oblivious to everything else. He wondered if his expression then had been like Reno's when the Turk was flying – purely…happy. Reno was lucky to have a job that let him do the thing he loved most.

Reno pulled up on the – what was it again? - the _collective_ – and Rufus suddenly noticed the dark stain on the sleeve of his jacket. The unfastened cuff of the Turk's white shirt was just visible, and there were stains on that too – stains that were rust-red.

"Did you know you have blood on your clothes?" Rufus asked, shocked. Reno looked down and shrugged. "Yeah? Occupational hazard. Being a Turk ain't just flying, yo."

"What happened?"

"Someone tried to get past security above the sixtieth floor. He wasn't cooperative about leaving."

"Who was it? A Wutaian agent?"

Reno shook his head. "Need-to-know only."

Rufus thought about sulking, glanced at the Turk and changed his mind. Reno didn't seem the sort to be impressed by anything much – let alone teenaged moodiness. Rufus turned to look out of the window. The faded, dusty browns and yellows of the desert surrounding Midgar had been left behind, replaced by the soft green of grasslands. Rufus's eyes followed the snaking meanders of a river – silver, mirror-bright. The muffled staccato beat of the rotor blades thrummed in his ears despite the protection given by the headset, and made him think of music. He remembered Reno seven years ago, the skateboard secure beneath his feet even in flight, tracing arcs though the air as he jumped and turned. He pictured the blades of the helicopter turning above them, responding to Reno's instinctive control, slicing air precisely in ways Rufus didn't understand – that seemed to him as mysterious as materia magic.

"When I was seven, I saw you skateboarding," said Rufus. He was surprised when Reno only nodded. "Yeah, I remember."

"You do?"

"Yeah." Reno said nothing else. He was remembering that day – what had happened after – memories of his mom and the hospital all tied in with killing Shaw, and the three people since then. And other things he'd done… things he'd questioned - until he'd learned not to. The kid this morning – not a terrorist, or a Wutaian spy – just some crazed Sephiroth wannabe, refusing to accept that SOLDIER wasn't interested in recruiting him, demanding to see the president. Stupid kid would've been sent on his way with nothing worse than a bloody nose and a warning, but just as Reno had been passing, the boy had tried to take a young, female secretary hostage, armed with a glass water bottle he'd snatched from a desk and smashed. Now he was in the cells with a broken arm, and Veld would be deciding what to do with him when he got back from Icicle Inn… No, being a Turk wasn't just about flying helicopters. Rufus saw Reno's mouth harden, green eyes narrowing, and reached his own, wrong, conclusions.

"Gaia," he mused, "He must've thought I was such an uptight rich-kid! In that stupidly big car… Gods, I was probably wearing a _suit_ –" Rufus turned his face to the window again, flushing, angry with himself for caring what Reno might have thought then - what he might be thinking _now_. "He's just a Turk," Rufus told himself. "It doesn't matter what he thinks. He's my pilot and my bodyguard. He's just the same as Rude, or Veld, or any of them. Why should I give a damn about what _he_ thinks?" Rufus would have been mortified to know that Reno wasn't thinking anything about him at all.

They flew for miles without speaking, Rufus staring at the slowly changing landscape beneath them, and Reno letting his mind drift; losing himself again in the pleasure of flight. After a while Rufus began to concentrate on the subtle changes in motion as Reno balanced the airspeed and altitude. When the helicopter rolled to the right slightly as the Turk made a slight course adjustment, Rufus observed, "It's like… Like we're hanging from an invisible wheel made by the blades. It tilts, and we tilt under it." Reno looked at him and nodded. Rufus suddenly felt his spirits lift as the Turk said, "That's it. You can feel it now, huh?" His tone was suddenly warmer.

"Yes."

"Textbooks call it the rotor disk – the wheel you're imagining. Maybe you _should_ ask your old man about lessons."

"I will. I'd like to learn."

They said little to each other for the rest of the flight, but Rufus sensed that the atmosphere had become more relaxed.

When they touched down in Junon, where President Shinra's second largest yacht, _Mako Marine,_ was waiting to transport them to Costa del Sol, Rufus turned to Reno and said, "Thank you. I can see why you love flying." Reno looked at him for a moment, then nodded. "You're welcome, kid. I've had worse passengers, yo!"

Rufus felt an entirely disproportionate surge of pride at the Turk's mild approval. As Lex escorted him to the yacht, Rude waited for Reno to finish his post-flight checks, watching Rufus striding along beside the blond Turk, head up, talking animatedly. He looked like a different person from the sulky boy who'd been waiting on the roof of the Shin-Ra building claiming to hate Costa del Sol. When Reno emerged from the cockpit Rude asked, "What happened? Way you were when we set off, I thought you couldn't stand him!"

"Ah – he's not such a bad kid. Bit uptight maybe…" Reno grinned. "Probably just needs a holiday."

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

The Shin-Ra security guard barely looked at her as she handed him her ID. There had been a steady stream of beautiful girls pouring into Costa del Sol in the hope of meeting Rufus Shinra - that stunning blonde in the next queue for example, talking to the brunette with the short dress and the endless legs – so a little, mousy-haired, bespectacled girl like this… he glanced down at her ID … this Alice Mortimer… hardly registered on his radar.

"Reason for visit?" he asked, eyes on the blonde, who was laughing ostentatiously, head thrown back, long hair cascading down her back…

"My parents are here on holiday. I was… supposed to be with my boyfriend, skiing, but we split up."

"Where have you travelled from?"

"Icicle Inn." If anything was going to set alarm bells ringing, Alice thought, that would be it. But the guard was still eyeing up the blonde girl Alice had deliberately lined up next to, and he only waved her through.

Alice's cover story was watertight in any case. Her parents _were_ on holiday here, staying in the expensive Palms Hotel, right on the beach, to the south of the original village where Rufus Shinra would be staying in his father's holiday villa.

But Alice wasn't going to see her parents. Mallory had somehow managed to get her a room at the inn in the old village, hacking into the computer system and imputing her details so that it looked as though she'd been booked in for weeks. As she walked to the inn, the unfamiliar weight of her suitcase making her stagger a little, Alice wondered how Mallory and Si were getting on up in Icicle. The rifle had been hidden in Si's parents' chalet for six months now, because everyone knew that Rufus, and even the president at times, visited Icicle Inn to ski and – in Rufus' case - snowboard.

Alice giggled to herself at the image of President Julius Shinra on a snowboard, then gave herself a mental telling off – because this was _serious_. But so far, so good. It didn't look as though any Shin-Ra security sweeps were going to find the weapon in Icicle Inn: Si's parents' chalet was fairly remote from the main village where the security presence was highest. As the children of high-ranking Shin-Ra personnel, she and Si were hardly likely suspects for an attack against the president and his family, in any case. But, like Mallory said, someone had to do something to stop Shin-Ra's destruction of the planet – before it was too late. Alice agreed with Mallory. Alice _loved_ Mallory. She would do anything for his cause – for _their_ cause. Even this.

Alone in her room at the inn, Alice unpacked the things she would need. It was important that no-one would be able to recognise her, especially not her parents if she happened to meet them at one of the many social functions organised in honour of Rufus' visit.

An hour later, Alice emerged from the bathroom, transformed. Hair now a brilliant blonde colour called, according to the box, _ultra-gold_; glasses replaced with contacts; skin tanned two shades darker and baggy clothes swapped for a tiny blue bikini that showed off her perfectly toned body - she was ready to begin the mission that would save the planet.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Reno lay back on the hot sand, not caring if it got into his clothes and his hair, closed his eyes, and gave himself up to the sunlight. Sun_bathing_ they called it – and it really was like that – all the words that came into his mind were associated with water – he basked, he let the warmth wash over his skin so that he felt immersed in heat – all he saw behind his closed eyelids was a hot flood of vivid, glowing red, bright as summons materia. Two years of living above the plate, and a few missions away from Midgar's usually polluted, smoggy atmosphere, had made Reno more accustomed to the light – but this heat was something new to him, and he surprised himself with how much he enjoyed it.

"Thank you, Veld, for giving me this assignment!" he thought, sighing with pleasure, stretching, cat-like.

Two weeks of doing nothing but taking turns with Rude and Lex watching Rufus Shinra attempting to have a holiday had to be the easiest job he'd been given in the whole two-and-a-half years he'd been a Turk. It wasn't as if the poor kid was giving them much to do. Hell – he wasn't even enjoying himself, as far as Reno could see. Day three of the carefully organised round of wind-surfing and sailing lessons, swimming, beach volleyball – played against some incredibly beautiful girls of about Rufus's age who just happened to be on holiday at the same time – evening barbecues and beach parties – and Reno had yet to see the Shinra heir crack a smile since the yacht had docked.

Tseng had made it quite clear that the president expected Rufus to meet suitable girls, but so far, Rufus seemed unimpressed to the point of sulkiness.

Reno, on the other hand, was never one to let opportunities pass him by. He had managed two interesting encounters in as many days – one with a very pretty dark-haired, brown-eyed girl his own age he'd met in a club on the first night when he was off duty, and one with a woman he'd met on the beach yesterday while Lex was out in a boat guarding Rufus as the boy improved his sailing skills. Reno smiled to himself, remembering. The woman – Mandy? Maddy? - had been perhaps ten years his senior, and about a hundred times more experienced. Rufus wasn't the only one learning new skills, yo! Reno would bet his life Tseng, Veld and Freya weren't having nearly this much fun organizing the president's security up at Icicle Inn.

A shadow fell across Reno's face, and he opened his eyes to find Rufus looking down at him, frowning behind his dark sunglasses.

"How can you be guarding me if you've got your eyes shut?" the boy demanded in a petulant tone.

"Not me on duty," Reno replied, waving one hand back over his head in the direction of the boardwalk where Rude cut an incongruous figure in his dark suit – almost as much as Reno did, lying on the beach in an untidier version of the same outfit.

"So why're you still in uniform?"

Reno squinted up at Rufus, shading his eyes with his hand. His goggles, as ever, remained on his forehead, despite the blinding sun. "I'll be on again in an hour. Anyway – I burn in about two minutes, yo! And I'm betting boiled lobster's not a look girls tend to go for…"

Rufus threw down a black beach towel and sat next to Reno with a sigh, wrapping his arms around his knees. His white linen shirt fluttered in the slight breeze. Pushing back his hair with an automatic gesture, Rufus asked, "Can't I just go back to Midgar? There's nothing to do here!"

"Nope. Like you said in the chopper – you're a decoy for your dad. See it like a mission. And try to have fun while you're doing it. Where I come from, kids your age'd kill to be here."

"What kind of a mission is being a decoy?"

"It's a damned important one. It's not only the press we have to worry about up in Icicle Inn. Do you have any idea how many people hate Shin-Ra? You're making Veld's job protecting the president a hell of a lot easier, just being here."

Rufus looked down at Reno, frowning. "Who hates Shin-Ra? Apart from Wutai, of course? The people love Shin-Ra. Look at all we've given them!"

Reno sighed and sat up, looking at Rufus incredulously. "You really think that? Hmm – suppose you would. Shin-Ra as good as owns the press, after all. But out in the country – people whose farmland has been turned to desert by pollution around the reactors – people who've lost sons in the army and SOLDIER… Not everyone in the SOLDIER programme is an eager volunteer. Why do you think Sephiroth is doing those photo-shoots? SOLDIER recruitment needs all the help it can get."

"I thought every kid dreamed of being a SOLDIER – or dating one!"

"Yeah." Reno agreed. "And every parent thinks about the casualty figures from Wutai – even the official numbers are high enough - and the idea of their kid being injected with mako… SOLDIER gets a steady flow of would-be recruits, but hardly any suitable ones. 'Cause – truth is – most people smart enough to be in SOLDIER are too smart to enlist."

"But there are always new recruits. I've seen the graduation ceremonies."

"Yeah. But not that many of them are volunteers. Not at first, at least. Once the mako's in their system - and Gaia knows what else they pump them full of – they stop wanting to leave. They fight, and they love it."

Rufus looked out to sea. He had read everything he could find about Shin-Ra's business practices, the structure of the company, the different departments. But there was very little accessible information about SOLDIER, and still less about the Turks. "So – how do they get recruited then?" he asked, not sure whether or not he wanted to hear the answer.

"That's one of our jobs." Veld had been specific about what the president wanted Rufus to know. In the briefing he had told them, "Answer any questions except if they concern current operations. Anything about procedures, what the job entails, past, closed cases – that's all allowed. He's going to run the company one day; he needs to know how things really work." Part of Reno wanted to shock Rufus out of his sulky attitude, so he didn't bother to search for euphemisms as he continued, "We scout for suitable candidates. Some of them come willingly, but mostly we kidnap them and hand them over to SOLDIER. They're usually about your age – perhaps a year older."

Rufus stared at Reno. "You _kidnap_ them? Doesn't anyone do anything?"

Reno shrugged. "Like what? A few weeks in training – few visits to the labs – and they're phoning home telling everyone about their sudden decision to join SOLDIER, and what a great life it is. Wouldn't get a single one of 'em to testify if anyone tried to prove anything." The Turk grinned, and Rufus had to suppress a shiver of something that was part fear and part excitement as Reno added, "'Sides – not a court on the planet would touch a case like that. No-one crosses Shin-Ra, yo."

Rufus pushed his sunglasses back onto his forehead and his blue gaze was intense as he asked, "So – if I wasn't who I am – I could be just walking along the street, and a Turk turns up with a gun – and that's it? I'm in SOLDIER?" Reno considered. "That's how it works, yeah." He shook his head. "But you wouldn't be a candidate for SOLDIER. I've seen your test scores. If we were gonna recruit you, you'd be one of us."

For the first time since arriving in Costa del Sol, Rufus Shinra smiled.

Reno leaned back on his elbows. "There are other threats, too. A lot of people are worried about the reactors. Recently there've been protests. Warnings from groups claiming that Shin-Ra is destroying the planet." The Turk shrugged.

A beautiful blonde girl in a microscopic blue bikini strolled through the surf at the water's edge in front of them. She turned and smiled at Rufus, who took absolutely no notice. Reno said, "I don't know – planet looks pretty good from where I'm sitting. But I suppose you never know. Anyone could be a spy for Wutai, or a terrorist." He nodded towards the girl. "You think she's a secret assassin maybe?"

Rufus glanced at the girl, then away. "Where would she keep her gun?" he asked, dryly. Reno laughed, then shrugged again. "I know a dozen ways to kill someone without a weapon," he said. "Maybe she does too…"

"She's pretty, I suppose," said Rufus, without much conviction, as they watched the girl wandering off along the shoreline. He sighed. "So – what's the rest of the day like?"

"Ah – just a second…" Reno reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his PHS. Shielding the screen from the sun's glare with one hand he read out: "jet-skiing at three, your usual combat class at five-thirty – I'll be doing that one too, 'cause Tseng's decided I need to work on making my fighting style less – how did he put it? _One-dimensionally 'street' _– then nothing 'til nine, when you've got that big reception and dinner at the Palms Hotel, with the local bigwigs and so on."

Rufus groaned. "Gaia, that's the worst! Can't I get out of it?"

"Nope. You need to be seen. This is the one indoor event the press are invited to as well, so you need to _smile_ and be nice to people. Can you do that?"

Rufus shrugged. "I don't know. I've never tried."

Reno laughed, putting away his PHS and lying back on the sand again. "Yeah, that I can believe!"

Rufus looked at him sharply, stung. "What? You don't think I can do it?"

"Guess we'll find out tonight." Reno closed his eyes.

"Hm." Rufus suspected he was being played – that Reno was trying to goad him into behaving himself. What he wasn't sure about was whether or not he minded.

X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X-X

Alice Mortimer stood on the beach, well away from anyone who might be able to hear her conversation, and phoned Mallory in Icicle. "I'm ready," she told him. "I saw _Him_ today – I smiled at him, but he didn't seem bothered. There're T… I mean, his _friends in blue_… always right next to him. He looks so young, Mal. I don't think he's even old enough to be interested in girls. Oh – sorry – I mean M."

Mallory's voice was distorted by the electronics or something, because he sounded cold and more than physically distant as he replied, "Get a grip, A. This is important. We're all set here. Are you?"

"Yes. I won't let you down Ma – M."

"You're not doing this for me. You're doing it for the future of the planet."

"Right. Yes. Yes I am."

"Good girl."

"And – I'll see you soon, won't I? After…"

"Yes. You're sure you know what to do?"

"Yes. I love you!"

"Me too. Phone in when it's done."

"I… I will… Mal –" But he'd already disconnected. Which was just as well, because she'd almost slipped up again, and said his whole name!

Alice walked back to the inn to get ready. She understood why Rufus Shinra had to die - of course she did - because Mallory had explained it all so clearly. Without Rufus there would be no-one to take over the company – the executives would fight for power – the business would founder – how had he described it? _Like a ship without a rudder_. Mallory was so clever at understanding all that stuff.

But she hadn't expected Rufus to look so young, and so normal – like one of her little sister's school friends. _Shin-Ra's killing kids his age every day_, she told herself, hearing Mallory's voice in her head. _Some of the regulars they send to Wutai are only fifteen. And what about the monster attacks? And the reactors, killing off the planet? If the planet dies, we all die – old and young alike. _She knew that Mallory was right. And he'd promised her that the poison wouldn't be painful – that it would act slowly, making the victim sleepy, and then… he just wouldn't wake up.

All she had to do was take the pen cap off very carefully, ask for his autograph and accidentally scratch his hand with the nib as she passed him the pen. She'd practiced a hundred times. "Rufus Shinra – I'm such a fan – would you, please?" A tiny scratch would be enough. Then apologise – "So sorry – how stupid –" And retreat, making sure to take the pen, looking either embarrassed, if he reacted angrily, or grateful, if he was gracious about it. Simple. It would be at least twelve hours before the poison started to work. Everyone would think it was the food.

Not for the first time, Alice wondered how Mallory had been able to get hold of the poisoned pen. But then Mallory was so clever – a genius really – so it wasn't all that surprising. Not when you thought about it.

And afterwards, after the dust had settled, she would go back to Mallory, and they would get married, and the world would be saved. No-one would ever know, of course, that she and Mal had saved the world. But like Mallory always said, _anonymous good deeds are the mark of a true hero_.

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**TBC **

**Thank you for reading.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you for all the reviews. I'm very grateful. **

**The holiday continues - but not for long. Oh well. Rufus wasn't enjoying it anyway...**

**Please R&R, if you have time. **

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In Costa del Sol - Part Two

Rufus always felt more alive after combat training, and this afternoon's session had been almost _fun_, listening to the instructor praising his technique while despairing of Reno's unorthodox moves. Rude had been on duty, calm and professional as ever, but Lex had been watching – and laughing – as the Wutaian master had patiently demonstrated to Reno why it _was_ worth learning the proper patterns. Rufus wondered how long it would take for the Turk's bruises to heal. Reno had looked about ready to explode with frustration during the lesson, but, give him his due, he'd been willing to concede that he'd learnt something by the end, thanking the master with a rueful grin and more grace than Rufus would have expected. When Rufus had questioned him about it, Reno had given his easy shrug and said, "Guy's a pro. Gotta respect that, yo!"

Reno had gone off to the showers, trying hard not to limp, and Rufus had wandered down to the beach to watch the sun setting before he headed back to the villa to change for the dinner he was dreading. The second-rank of his father's friends and acquaintances would be there – all the ones not close enough to the inner circle to be invited up to Icicle Inn. Then there would be the local dignitaries – the usual mind-numbingly boring and predictable set.

Rufus wondered briefly how his father was getting on with his new wife. Since learning about the existence of Lazard, Rufus told himself that he no longer cared what his father did. The old man could marry a purple chocobo for all the difference it would make to _him_!

Sitting down on the rapidly chilling sand, Rufus leaned back on his elbows and stared out to sea. The water moved slowly; soft undulations gilded with long light from the heavy, low sun. A cool breeze blew from the ocean. Behind him, among the palm trees, Rude was a silent, unobtrusive presence. Rufus felt almost alone – almost… calm.

A figure approached across the sand – a dark silhouette against the setting sun. Rufus' heart lurched, but as the boy reached his side and looked down at him, Rufus recognised Seb Domino, not his twin as he'd thought at first.

Rufus sat up. "Seb."

Seb didn't smile. "Having a good holiday?"

"Not really. You?"

"No. Listen, Rufus, I don't know what you said to Sacha that last week of school, but it's… it's left him in pieces."

Behind them, Rude edged closer, sensing tension, but Rufus waved him away. Rufus looked up at Seb, acutely aware of everything that was identical to Sacha in his face: the narrow, straight nose, dark, wide-set eyes, unruly black hair. He found himself thinking of the differences too: Sacha's face was softer – his jaw-line less pronounced, his expression less determined and more contemplative. Rufus said, "I don't know what you want me to say. Did he tell you what he said to _me_?"

"He won't talk about it. But I'm not blind Rufus – I know how he feels. I assumed you knew that too."

"No. Not until he told me."

"So you… you're not…"

"I told him to leave me alone, and he did. I haven't seen him since, except across the exam hall. What do you want, Seb? What do you expect me to do? I can't do anything about it. He'll get over it."

"I hope so. You know Sacha… how he takes things to heart."

"It hasn't affected his playing has it?"

"No. That's part of what I wanted to tell you – he's playing in a concert tonight – in Junon. It's being broadcast at eleven. If you're interested…"

Rufus nodded; made his voice casual. "I'll try to catch it."

Seb's tone was bitter as he turned away. "I'm sure he'd be honoured."

"Seb!"

The look Seb turned on Rufus was ferocious. "_What?_"

_Tell him I'm sorry. Tell him I didn't mean… _

But a Shinra could not be seen to apologize in front of someone like Seb Domino. Especially not with one of the Turks watching from the lengthening shadows of the palm trees.

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Maybe it doesn't to you." Seb said nothing else, only walked off along the beach, the sun lighting his retreating back. In his mind Rufus pictured Sacha – same hair – same figure – turning away from him, vanishing into the gathering darkness.

His calm mood having dissipated like the light, Rufus got to his feet, brushing sand from his loose combat gear. He felt a sudden longing for Midgar – for its soft, green glow - its low, continuous hum – the comforting certainty of its structured hierarchies. This place made him uneasy – its shifting sands, the restless ocean, the lack of drive, of a pulse… Even the sound of the breaking waves was an irregular rhythm – impossible to predict or time. His mind couldn't settle here – his thoughts fractured. _I want… I need… _

What? _Something_… the certainty of skill mastered – Reno's sure hands controlling the helicopter – his own fingers flying over the keys of the world's most perfect piano… Or some_one_ – the sudden warm press of Sacha's lips against his own… the understanding and compassion of a dark-eyed Wutaian who none-the-less kept secrets… the unsettling charm of a red-haired Turk who clearly considered him a spoiled brat, except – sometimes…

Or was what he yearned for simply a sense of being where he was supposed to be - doing what he was supposed to do? Why was that so elusive? Did it come with age, or did everyone feel this… disconnection… all the time?

Behind him Rude coughed quietly and said, "You are due at the Palms Hotel at nine, Sir."

"Yes. I'm coming." Rufus wondered whether Rude ever felt these things. Or was his life a straight path of orders followed – deadlines met? Rufus wished his own course were so clearly delineated. Everyone told him he had a destiny to fulfil: all right, he'd come to accept that in the last two years. What nobody seemed to be telling him was how in Gaia he was meant to do it.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Rufus shook hands with the Mayor of Costa del Sol, his extravagantly bejewelled wife, his pretty but simpering daughter. Rufus smiled. He was polite and charming. He hoped that Reno, standing quietly by the bar watching the crowds, was taking note. Rude and Lex were somewhere in the building too, out of sight, but always vigilant. Every person entering the building had been through a dozen security checks, and the hotel was surrounded by armed Shin-Ra personnel.

Every time he smiled, or shook a proffered hand, or spoke to someone, the camera flashes half blinded him. He registered a pretty blonde girl approaching him with an open autograph book. There was something familiar about her face. Rude appeared from nowhere and steered the girl away. "Mr. Shinra will be meeting members of the public and signing autographs after dinner," the Turk stated quietly.

For a moment Rufus thought about calling the girl over – showing Reno just how nice he could be when he tried – but she'd already moved away into the crowd. Rufus gestured to Rude instead. "I need to be back at the villa by eleven," he said. "There's something I want to watch. Tell Lex to make sure they speed things up."

"Yes Sir." Rude slipped away, and Rufus continued with the endless meet and greet. His face was already aching: he didn't think he'd ever smiled so much in his life. A journalist thrust a microphone at him and asked, "Mr. Shinra – how do you feel about your father's marriage?" Rufus' smile never faltered. "I'm very pleased for both of them," he lied smoothly. "They seem very happy."

In truth, Rufus had only met Honoria for a few minutes, at the wedding. She had behaved with perfect propriety, as had he. She hadn't been patronising or falsely friendly, which had been a mercy. With a little attention to timing they would doubtless be able to avoid each other almost completely for however long she stuck it out with the old man – or he with her.

Rufus answered a few more boring questions, giving neutrally polite replies each time. Who could fail to enjoy a holiday in such a beautiful location? Oh, yes – and so many beautiful girls, too. – No, he wasn't seeing anyone special at the moment. Glad to be finished with school. New challenges… et cetera. He really hoped Reno was watching all this bullshit – witnessing that Rufus could be as professional as a Turk if he wanted to be. _I could be a spy_, thought Rufus, actually beginning to enjoy himself. _Lying is so easy! Everyone just sees what they expect to see and hears what they want to hear_.

At Rufus' request, dinner followed swiftly. Rufus ate little, spoke to the mayor with convincingly feigned interest, gave effusive thanks, and departed with Lex before anyone could protest.

Reno was about to follow them, when an anxious-looking blonde girl of about his own age accosted him, grabbing his arm. "Where's the president's son?" she asked, her voice rather shrill. "He was meant to be signing autographs!"

"Hey, relax!" Reno told her. He recognised her at once as the girl who had smiled at Rufus on the beach earlier. Her low-cut blue silk dress left scarcely more to the imagination than the bikini had. "He's here for two weeks. You'll get a chance another day."

"But it was supposed to be tonight! Oh…oh never mind. Thank you. I'll… You're right. I'll…" She looked at Reno, and he saw something in her eyes he'd seen too many times over the last two-and-a-half years: naked fear. He nodded, waited for her to walk away, then followed her.

It wasn't only the girl's fear that instantly alerted Reno's instinct for trouble: plenty of people were afraid of the Turks. No – it was those two phrases – _the president's son_ and _it was supposed to be tonight_. Any real fans of Rufus Shinra would use his name – hell, just saying _Rufus_ probably got them all over-excited. And what was _supposed_ to be tonight?

The girl glanced around quickly, then left the hotel, stumbling a little as her high heels skidded on the marble steps. Reno watched from the lobby and then slipped out into the night after her. She didn't go far. Taking off her shoes, she ran a short way onto the beach, pulled a phone from her bag and pressed buttons. Reno circled round to her right, ran silently across the sand behind her and ducked down behind a pair of white plastic sun-loungers. Keeping motionless, trying to keep his breathing shallow, he could just make out her conversation. She sounded close to tears as she moaned, "Pick up! Pick up!"

"Mal? Thank Gaia!... Listen - I couldn't do it! He left early. No. No – no-one suspects, but – yes…Yes I am. Okay... But what about you and Si? Sorry, sorry – I know. 'S'…All right…I can. I love you… I will."

The girl stood for a moment, looking down at the glowing screen of the phone. Then she screamed as Reno's hand closed around her wrist. She froze for an instant – then dropped the phone and threw her bag away towards the sea in sheer desperation. Reno dragged her with him as he bent to retrieve both items, ignoring her sharp fingernails clawing at his hand.

"Let me _go_! You can't just – "

She stopped dead, as someone jabbed something hard into her back and she heard a sinister click. Reno felt and heard the same thing a moment later. He grinned. "Lovely evening for a stroll on the beach, no?" he asked, turning to look at the blank blue visor of a Shin-Ra security guard. The guard clearly recognized him, because he lowered the gun at once.

"Sorry, Sir. We heard a noise."

"No shit? This is Turk business. I'll handle it."

"Sir." The two guards retreated towards the hotel.

"You're coming with me," Reno said to the girl. "You've got a few questions to answer."

"I haven't done anything!"

Reno's smile was cold. "Then you don't have anything to worry about, do you?"

The girl's whimper might as well have been a signed confession.

"Just start talking," Reno told her, "and make this quicker for everyone." He was walking fast, his hand steel around her wrist. She half ran to keep up, small stones and grit hurting her bare feet as they left the beach and headed for the old village. Soon she was panting with exertion and fear.

"I… haven't…"

"Start with the easy questions, shall we? What's your name? And who are Mal and Si?"

That was when she started to cry.

Rufus pressed the record button of the TV's hard disk before turning to stare at Reno and the weeping girl he'd just dragged into the lounge of the Shinra holiday villa. The sweet, low tones of cello music coming from the speakers formed an incongruous counterpoint to the girl's choked sobs.

"What's going on?" Rufus asked, frowning.

"This is Alice Mortimer. Remember what we were saying on the beach, about her being an assassin?"

_That _was where he'd seen the girl before. But surely… "Is this some kind of joke, Reno?"

"I wish. This is trouble. Where're Lex and Rude?"

"Lex is in the kitchen. Rude went out: he's off duty."

"Lex!" Reno yelled, making Alice start violently. "Get in here!"

"Yeah?" Lex appeared, holding a kettle and a tin of cocoa. He took in the girl's tear-stained face and Reno's scowl, vanished back into the kitchen and reappeared empty handed.

"Do I need to call Veld?" he asked.

"Yeah. Code 2 for the president. One or two targets, armed with a long-range hunting rifle. Tell him to keep the boss indoors. Well – he knows the drill."

"Right." Lex took out his PHS and made the call. Rufus said, "You really believe she's an assassin?"

"Yes." The look Reno gave the girl was one Rufus hoped never to see directed at _him_. "She told me the plan on the way here. She was gonna kill you with a fucking _pen_! Whole thing was organized by this Mallory guy she met at college."

Speaking into the PHS, Lex said, "I'll call again once we've got more info." He turned to Reno. "That was Tseng. Veld's with the president now." The senior Turk glanced at the girl. "What do we know so far Reno?"

Pointing to the girl, then to an armchair upholstered in black and white striped fabric, Reno snapped, "Sit. Don't move."

Just as she had done throughout her life, Alice Mortimer did as she was told.

As Reno outlined the plot to Rufus and Lex, Alice's sobs grew louder. "So the president was going to be shot tomorrow morning, while skiing. This Mallory got hold of his itinerary, somehow. And you –" Reno looked over at Rufus – "You'd've been feeling the first effects of the poison at about the same time."

Rufus seemed remarkably unfazed. He looked at Alice curiously. "Why?" he asked.

"Because Shin-Ra's destroying the planet!" Alice cried. "And without you the company would… would flounder…like… like…" She couldn't remember everything Mallory had told her now. But it had all made perfect sense.

"_Flounder_?" asked Rufus, incredulous.

"I don't know! Oh Gaia – I just…I just _crumbled_…I'm so stupid! Mal's going to kill me!"

"No," said Reno, in a tone that sent an electric thrill through Rufus. "He really isn't."

But Alice still didn't seem to grasp the situation at all. "I want to see my parents!" she pleaded, looking at Lex, who, she seemed to have decided, was less frightening than Reno. "They're staying in the Palms Hotel. They both work for Shin-Ra. They'll help me. This is all a… a mistake."

"They know you're here?" Lex asked.

"No. They don't know anything about any of this."

"That's just as well for them."

"But I want to see them!"

"Don't be stupid." Lex's voice was calm and carried no emotion. "You can't want to drag them into this. This is your mess. They never need to know anything about it."

"R..Really?"

"Really. But you need to tell us everything. Do you understand?"

Alice nodded eagerly. Reno looked away: this was the part he hated. Lex was good at it – the easy lies, the offering of false hope. But then Lex had been a Turk for ten years longer than he had.

Rufus was watching Lex, fascinated. The blond Turk sat down on one of the couches opposite Alice, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. "So tell me," he said, gently. "This Mallory. Your boyfriend?"

"Yes." Alice nodded. "We're going to get married. Not – not right away of course – but…"

"I see. And he's in Icicle now – with the other boy…"

"Si," supplied Reno, his voice low.

"Yes, Si. Where are they staying?"

Alice only hesitated for a moment. "Si's parents have a chalet."

Lex glanced at Reno, who nodded, and went to fetch his laptop.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

At some point during Alice's questioning, Rude returned. Reno looked up from the laptop – Rude read his partner's expression and took a seat next to him, silently.

"Right," said Lex at last, "I think that's all we need for now." Everyone glanced at the TV, as a serendipitous burst of applause coincided with the end of the interrogation. The three Turks turned back to their tasks, Reno quietly filling in Rude on all he'd missed, and Lex making another call to Tseng. Rufus kept his attention on the screen, where Sacha stood and bowed to the packed concert hall. The camera zoomed in on his face for a moment, and Rufus moved quickly to switch off the picture. He left the hard disk recording, though.

Alice looked up at Rufus, her face white, her tears dried. "I didn't mean… I mean… I don't have anything against you _personally_," she explained.

Rufus said nothing. Lex told Rude, "Take her down to the cellar. We'll transfer her to Midgar tomorrow."

"But…I thought…I've told you everything! Can't I go now?" Everyone in the room apart from Reno stared at Alice in frank disbelief. Reno kept his eyes on the computer screen – the files he'd opened on Alice Mortimer and Simon Payton. Of a student at their college going by the name of Mallory Hyde he'd been able to find no trace.

Lex said, "I'm afraid we're not quite finished asking you questions yet. We need to find your friends, and make sure your versions of events match up."

"I understand."

"You've been very cooperative. Try to get some sleep," Lex told her.

Alice nodded. "Yes… th… thank you." She gave Lex a weak smile. "Do you think…Only, I left my shoes on the beach. They're _Christa Libertines_. They cost four hundred gil..."

Lex smiled back. "I'll see what I can do. If we can't find them, I assume you have others at the inn?"

"Oh – yes."

"We'll send someone to fetch your things."

Reno wondered whether this part of the job would ever stop making him feel sick. Rude led Alice out of the lounge, left along the corridor and then down into the cellar.

Back in the lounge, Lex quickly sorted the contents of Alice's bag, sealing the pen and her phone into separate envelopes. He glanced at Reno. "You've sent Tseng the address of the chalet?"

"Yes. Freya and Veld have already left."

"Good. I'll take the girl to Midgar tomorrow. The president is refusing to leave Icicle Inn, but he wants Rufus safely back at HQ. You and Rude stay here one more day. Rufus needs to have some kind of minor accident so we can explain his early return to Midgar to the press."

Rufus nodded. "I could fall off a jet-ski. The instructor told me off for going too fast this afternoon – and I've got another lesson booked tomorrow."

"Good. Just don't make it too realistic."

"Right." Rufus' eyes were shining. This was so much better than a holiday!

Lex took a seat next to Reno and leaned across to look at the laptop screen. "Nothing on Mallory?"

"No. Pretty damn sure it's an alias. _Hyde_! He's taking the piss. He's what bothers me. The girl's stupid as fuck– and obviously besotted. The boy – Simon – sounds brighter – but same background: wealthy parents, some links with ecological groups – spent a gap year in Cosmo Canyon. Hope Veld and Freya bring him in alive. Mallory Hyde – or whatever his real name is… Well, I'm betting he's long gone, yo!"

"Seems likely," Lex agreed. "Reno – go back to the beach and find the damned shoes. Then go to the inn and get her stuff. Wipe her name off their computer and the register if they have one. Lean on the innkeeper – make sure he knows that if he talks, he's dead. I don't want to leave any trace that she was ever here. Then get back here, erase her records from the security files when she entered Costa, and keep looking for Hyde."

"Will do."

When it became apparent that the excitement was over and that the rest of the night was going to involve Rude standing guard at the top of the cellar stairs, Reno running errands and searching the planet for clues about Mallory Hyde, and Lex making arrangements on the phone, Rufus replayed the concert he'd recorded.

He'd been unfair to Sacha in more ways than one, he reflected, watching his former friend – listening. Sacha wasn't a second-rate cellist. He was really very good. In his dark suit, black hair tamed, long fingers drawing those achingly beautiful notes from his instrument, Sacha looked much older than Rufus remembered. His face was thinner than before – his features sharper. He played with his eyes closed most of the time, perfectly at one with the cello. Just as he had done in the helicopter, Rufus felt a sharp envious pang at the thought of someone being able to devote his life to doing something he loved.

But this evening's events had been… interesting, Rufus considered. Perhaps he could find a purpose in this – in learning from the Turks – uncovering the hidden truths beneath the boring superficialities of everyday life. People hated Shin-Ra. How fully did his father understand that? People were willing to die to bring down the company. Was it true that the extraction of mako was destroying the planet? If so, did that negate the benefits it brought to humanity? Surely, over time, the scientists could find ways to counteract the negative effects of the process?

The Turks recruited people to SOLDIER by force. What else did they do? How many more murky secrets lay buried at the core of his father's bright new world?

And then, there was Lazard. Rufus hadn't told anyone that he knew about his half-brother's existence, but now that he'd seen a little more of the way the Turks operated, he was fairly certain they already knew that he knew. Dominic would probably have said something to his parents – Freddy could well have done. Seb – probably not. Sacha – definitely not.

Rufus watched Sacha take his bow again. The applause became a standing ovation – which seemed only fair given the quality of his playing. _That could have been me_, Rufus thought. _I could have had that life. A concert pianist – devoted to music. Nothing else would have mattered. _But that dream was over. Rufus sighed, and turned off the TV. School was over. The world he would inherit was so much more complicated than he had ever guessed: the very idea of trying to control it all made him dizzy with mingled fear and exhilaration.

_I'm almost fifteen_, he told himself. _Three years until I become Vice President. Three years to learn, to decide what to do, and to set things in motion so that when the time comes I'll be ready. Lazard will never have Shin-Ra. My father will lose Shin-Ra – to me. It's all going to be mine._ Rufus drifted into a little fantasy in which he was running Shin-Ra while his father was living in involuntary retirement in Costa del Sol. See how the old bastard liked months of enforced sunbathing! But in order to achieve his goals, Rufus was going to need help – at least to start with. Someone who had access to secrets. Someone who could help him find out about Lazard so that he could discover his brother's weaknesses.

When Reno returned an hour later, a large designer suitcase in one hand and a pair of silver-soled blue silk shoes in the other, Rufus said, "The day after my mother's memorial service – I passed you in the elevators at the Shin-Ra building, didn't I?"

"Yeah," said Reno, dumping the suitcase in a corner of the lounge. For a moment he stood still, looking down at the delicate blue shoes in his hands, his expression unreadable. He placed them gently on top of the case.

"Was that the day you joined the Turks?"

"That was the day they brought me in, yeah. Why?"

"No reason. I just… remembered it, that's all."

Reno nodded wearily, and returned to his laptop. "This is gonna be an all-nighter," he said to Rufus. "You should get some sleep, yo."

"That girl – Alice. What are they going to do with her?"

Reno's head jerked up, his expression suddenly fierce. "_They_? Who the _fuck_? It's _us_ – _our_ job. _We_ are going to find out everything we need to know to keep you and your father safe, and then _we _are going to execute her, and Simon – and fucking Mallory Hyde, if we can ever find the bastard, and then we're going to cover it up and make it all look like some kind of tragic accident. That's what we do – dispose of Shin-Ra's problems. We're the Turks. Okay?"

Rufus was pale with anger, but he only gave a tight nod and said, "Yes. I understand. I see how it works."

Reno's stare lost some of its hard edge. "Look, Rufus – this is how it is. She was going to kill you. And don't believe that crap she was telling us about how the poison would've sent you off to sleep, either. It's most likely Symoxonide – a synthetic mako-derived poison. You can adjust the make-up of that shit to give you fairly accurate activation delays – but, believe me, it ain't a pretty way to die. By the time it's clear that it's poison, it's usually too late for an antidote."

"Do you think she knew that?"

Reno sighed. "No – probably not," he conceded. "Poor bitch most likely believed every word this Mallory bastard told her. But - being stupid don't stop her being guilty, yo."

"No."

"Go on, get some sleep. I've got a lot of work to do."

"All right."

Rufus went to his room, and tried not to think about Alice Mortimer, asleep in the cellar on an old camp-bed. He felt a chill remembering how close he'd been to death – how he'd nearly called her back during the reception. If he had, the poison would be in his system now.

Drifting into sleep, Rufus wondered about Reno. The Turk shouldn't talk to him so casually: one day he'd speak to him about that. But he told Rufus the truth bluntly, as no-one else had so far. Did he know about Lazard? He was clearly loyal to the Turks – to a fault – but was he also loyal to the president? _Would he be loyal to me? _Rufus thought, as his eyes closed. _Could he be the ally I need?_

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

The cell in the Shin-Ra building was a lot less pleasant than the cellar at the villa in Costa del Sol had been. Alice sat on the edge of the metal bunk and looked down at her feet. At least that nice Turk – Lex – had found her shoes. He had told her that they just needed to ask her some more questions, but it seemed to be taking a long time. She hoped Mallory wasn't going to be too cross with her. Thinking back, she really shouldn't have said so much to that nasty, rough Turk with the red hair and the tattoos, because then they might never have worked out about Mal and Si being at Icicle. But he'd been so scary and quick – and she hadn't had time to think it through.

When she'd first arrived in Midgar, they'd taken her to another room where a different Turk – a quietly frightening dark-haired man with a scarred cheek and glasses – had asked her lots of questions about Mallory – about what he'd said, and what he looked like. Which must mean they hadn't caught him yet. She'd been clever there, at least, and thought about her first boyfriend – little sandy-haired Tony – and she'd described him instead.

_They must think I'm really stupid!_ Alice thought, swinging her expensively-shod feet. She'd never tell them what Mallory really looked like – his handsome, intellectual face – that beautiful brown hair that had almost blond streaks in bright sunlight – his dark, intense eyes and high cheekbones. She'd never really gone for guys in glasses before in spite of wearing them herself – but on Mallory they looked good - made him look even more intelligent.

The cell door opened suddenly and the dark Turk with the scar was standing there with Si. The Turk said, "Go on," and Si stepped forward. Then the door closed. Si's face was a mess, all bruises and blood, which was a pity, because he was very good-looking underneath: a Gongaga boy with black hair and bright blue eyes. Alice stood up and went to help him, but he gave her a fierce glare, and sat on the edge of the bunk as far away from her as he could get.

"What is it Si? What did they do?"

"Well duh!" replied Si, still glaring, pointing at his face. "You told them everything, didn't you?"

"They knew your names. One of them spied on me – horrible slummy red-haired rat – and he heard me on the phone."

"You told them where we were!"

"They scared me! And they knew our names – so they would've worked it out anyway…Please don't be angry with me Si! I didn't mean to. Where – where's Mal? They haven't hurt him have they?"

"Mal? Precious _Mallory_?" scoffed Si. "No – they haven't touched _him_!"

"Why? What do you mean?"

"As soon as he got your call, he said he had to go and _arrange things_. Told me to carry on with the plan on my own. He's long gone."

"He wouldn't!"

"Of course he would. Listen, you stupid little girl – he took us both for a ride. That Turk – the one who looks like he's from Gongaga too – told me that Mallory promised to marry you!"

"Yes – he did! Of course. What's wrong with that?"

"He was fucking _me_."

"What? I don't believe you! That's just ridiculous! Mal's not gay!"

"Mal's whatever the fuck Mal needs to be to get what Mal wants. He told me you two were just good friends, but he was worried you had a crush on him. He said we shouldn't touch in front of you in case it _upset_ you!"

"_What?_"

"Mallory's not even his real name."

"What do you mean?"

"What I said. He lied to us both from the start. He was just using us as tools to kill the Shinras. I bet he was planning to leave me on my own anyway – even before he got your call."

Alice started to cry. Si snorted. "Too late for that! We're fucked."

"W – what do you mean? I've been cooperative – the blond Turk said so. They'll let us go once they know everything!"

"Odin's fucking bollocks Alice! I knew you were stupid – but _come on_! They broke the chalet door down – they've got the gun. I bet they've got the pen, right?"

"Yes."

"We were going to shoot the president! We were going to kill Rufus Shinra with fucking Symoxonide! They're not going to let us go!"

Alice shook her head. "Mallory wouldn't…"

"Mallory doesn't care about anything except stopping Shin-Ra. I don't think he cares about people at all. If you really care about saving the planet, you'll just hope he finds someone else to do it with, since we've failed so spectacularly."

Alice was sobbing, shaking her head, close to hysteria. "I don't! I don't care about the planet! I didn't want to kill anyone! I did it for Mal! I love him!"

Si's face softened then. "Oh Alice! You poor kid. I know. I… thought I loved him too."

Alice's voice was almost a scream as she finally faced the reality of her situation. "But I don't want to die! I didn't mean it!"

"Shh. I'll… I'll be with you. If I can."

Alice was on her feet, pacing aimlessly. Her heel skidded on the metal floor, and her ankle twisted, but she hardly noticed the pain. She put her shaking hands over her eyes. "Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods… W - What will they do?"

"I don't know."

"I'm so scared…"

"Hm, me too. We'll – be scared together, okay?" Si pulled Alice close, feeling her whole body trembling. He drew her back to the bench, and she curled up against him, her skimpy blue silk evening dress barely covering her fake-tanned skin, the brassy blonde of her hair too harsh for her frightened, childish face, marred as it was by the smudgy black tracks of mascara-stained tears.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

In a rented room in the small mining town of Corel, the young man known, among other things, as Mallory Hyde, watched the evening news. Behind his narrow glasses his dark eyes glowed with an intense hatred as he watched the headline report about the accident suffered by Rufus Shinra while jet-skiing in Costa del Sol. Unfortunately, the reporter explained, despite a swift materia cure, his broken arm had required further work by the sort of skilled doctors only found in Midgar, and he had been forced to cut short his holiday - much to the disappointment of the press and his many fans.

The second item showed the scattered debris of a remote chalet, destroyed in a freak avalanche in the mountains above Icicle Inn. Because of the location casualties had been minimal, but it was with great regret that the station had to report the deaths of two young people – Alice Mortimer, eighteen, and Simon Payton, twenty-two; both the children of Shin-Ra employees. It was believed that the two had been a couple - very much in love - in Icicle on a romantic holiday. It seemed that they had died together.

The young man narrowed his eyes, their attractive upward slant the only legacy his long-dead Wutaian mother had bequeathed him apart from his real name.

The reporter was interviewing President Shinra now, who expressed his sorrow in suitably sombre tones. His new wife seemed genuinely moved. "Such a terrible waste of young lives," she said, her frank gaze aimed straight into the camera. "Both of them only a little older than Rufus! It's heart-breaking - it really is."

Fuhito laughed bitterly, turning off the TV. Hypocrites and liars. He wondered which of the Turks had arranged _that _little accident. Well – Alice had always been a risk. She really wasn't very bright. Simon had been a lot tougher – and a satisfying sexual partner – but after Alice had dropped them all in it, he hadn't had much chance of success. Yes – Fuhito would miss Simon for a while…

Still – there were plenty of other Simons and Alices out there. Next time he would chose more carefully – find others who genuinely shared his vision; who were closer to being equal to his genius. Really – most human beings were pathetic. Sometimes he wondered whether the planet would be better off without humanity all together. "We are a sort of plague," he thought. "Without us, the world would be so… beautifully… _pure_." He remembered the images on the news – pictured the cleansing snow thundering down from the high, empty mountains, sweeping away… everything.

_Avalanche_, thought Fuhito, smiling slightly. He gazed out of the window, up at the vast, darkening sky. He liked the sound of the word. He liked its connotations.

_Avalanche_…

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Sorry it's taken so long to update. I'll try to be quicker.**

**Thank you so much to Licoriceallsorts and CameoAmalthea for advice and encouragement, and to everyone who has reviewed and read the story so far.**

**CameoAmalthea and her friends recently did some great cosplay pics, including some scenes from the last two chapters with Rufus and the Turks on holiday in Costa del Sol. See them on her Deviant Art page. Reno on a sun-lounger being told off by Rufus is not to be missed!**

**In this chapter - Rufus finally gets to meet his long lost brother, and Reno... just wants a decent cup of coffee!**

* * *

**Rufus 15, Reno 19**

President Shinra tugged at his tie and shifted restlessly in his chair. "Gaia, it's hot. Get someone on to it, Veld. I don't know what's happened to the air conditioning lately."

If Veld was annoyed at being treated like a member of Buildings Maintenance he didn't show it.

"Yes, Sir," was his only response. Julius frowned. He was in the mood for a confrontation, and he'd never once managed to provoke his Director of Administrative Research, after years of trying.

"Anyhow, I didn't call you up here to talk about the temperature. I need to know what, if anything, Rufus knows about Lazard."

Veld was surprised by the question. "I don't think he knows anything, Sir. We followed your orders to the letter, of course. Everyone at his school was under strict instructions not to speak of it – newspapers were censored before he read them – all media services were screened. None of the conspiracy theories concerning the late Mrs. Shinra, and none of the gossip about Lazard could have reached him."

"Good. Make sure that's the case. Check with the school – his friends. I think it's time my sons met each other, and I want to handle it carefully. If I know Rufus, he won't like the idea. He's used to being the centre of attention. Sometimes I worry that I've spoiled that boy…"

Veld made no reply. In his mind he saw Rufus Shinra aged six, on his way to school without a word of explanation or farewell from his father – his closed expression, the way he had mastered his feelings alone. He remembered Tseng's angry words as they'd taken Rufus' piano back to Midgar - "I think he has been wrenched out of his true path." He thought back to the few occasions he had seen Rufus since then: each time the boy had seemed detached; cynical beyond his years; his expression one of seemingly permanent boredom – whether affected or not, Veld hadn't been able to tell. If Rufus was spoiled, it wasn't in the way Julius meant. If Felicia had lived, _he _would never have… But Veld extinguished that thought the moment it sparked in his mind, as he aways did – as he had to.

"Send me a report, as soon as you know for sure," Julius said. "Oh – by the way – how's Rufus' arm?"

"Healed, the doctors say." Veld tried hard to keep his tone neutral. He knew that the president blamed him, as head of department, for Rufus' 'accident'.

"Hmm. I hope there's no weakness there. Make sure he gets plenty of strength training. When I was fifteen I could handle a shotgun one-handed. I remember a time when we were hunting sabrewolves in southern Wutai - I felled two of the beasts at once, shotgun in each hand! Have you ever hunted sabrewolves, Veld?"

"No, Sir. Aren't they endangered?"

"Probably are now. I expect monsters get 'em. They have some pretty big monsters over Wutai way." Julius sighed. "Still – the point is – I want Rufus to be that strong. He learned to shoot at school – they said he was good. Get him practicing, Veld. Build him up a bit. Does he eat enough do you think? Strikes me as a skinny little thing, like his mother."

"He's only fifteen. I'm sure he'll fill out."

"I hope so. The president of Shin-Ra should be an imposing figure. People respect that. Why do neither of my sons take after me? Lazard's bigger than Rufus – but his mother… she was curvy in all the right places, if you know what I mean – and he's still turned out like a beanpole! No appetite, young people today. No joie de vivre!" Julius sighed again, settling his hands over his considerable stomach. "All right, Veld. Off you go. And get the air-conditioning sorted immediately, won't you. It's sweltering in here!"

"Yes, Sir." Veld closed the door on his way out, making a mental note to get Lex to deal with the air-conditioning. It wasn't like him to slip-up – but what had he been thinking of, allowing Rufus to pull that stunt with the jet-ski?

Thank Gaia for Reno's quick-thinking though! It would be all too easy for a kid his age to let Costa del Sol distract him – but he'd really come through. If he hadn't sensed that girl's unease – if he hadn't followed her… Veld didn't want to think too hard about the consequences of that. Who would have stepped into the power vacuum if both the president and Rufus had been assassinated? Heidegger? Scarlet? Possibly. Not Palmer. Not Tuesti. Lazard? He hadn't been officially recognised as the president's son, but it was a pretty open secret… except to Rufus, apparently. Was it possible that Rufus had found out? As far as Veld was aware, he hadn't said anything about it to the Turks who had been assigned to protect him on holiday. Lex had mentioned that the boy seemed to look up to Reno to some degree. Perhaps there were possibilities in that connection? Apart from an apparent respect for Tseng, Rufus had always shown indifference to his bodyguards until now. Pondering these things, Veld made his way back down to Administrative Research, taking the stairs, as he often did when he needed a little time to think.

The first person Veld saw as he entered the open offices was Reno, hand writing a report in his elongated scrawl, holding the pen in his usual awkward-looking upside-down left-handed fashion.

"Reno – a word. In my office, please."

"Sure thing, Boss."

Reno let his pen drop to the desk exactly where it was, mid-word, and leapt to his feet. Veld smiled, knowing that paperwork was not Reno's favourite occupation, and led the way past Rude's desk and Freya's, nodding hello to Kit and Dana who were discussing something displayed on the screen of Kit's computer. Passing Tseng's closed door, Veld stepped back to allow Reno into the Director's huge office first. Reno breathed out quietly: Veld was being polite to him – he probably wasn't in trouble then.

Veld gestured towards a chair. "Sit down, Reno. I have a job for you."

Reno sat, looking at Veld expectantly, but saying nothing. Three – even two - years ago, the kid would have made some comment – some sassy remark, thought Veld. He'd grown up a lot in the time he'd been with the Turks.

"While you were in Costa, Rufus never mentioned Lazard to you, did he?"

"Not a word. I thought he didn't know…"

"No, as far as we're aware, he doesn't. But the president wants to be sure."

"Ah. So – what? Rufus is going to be meeting Lazard soon then? His dad's gonna be doing that whole, 'this is your long-lost brother,' spiel? Or is it just so we can keep them apart while the kid does his work-experience?"

Veld suppressed a smile. Different as they were, Reno reminded him a lot of Tseng at the same age. They shared a quickness of mind – an ability to ask the right questions. Of course, the phrasing of those questions was poles apart…

"One of those, I expect," Veld replied, and Reno knew that particular part of the conversation was over.

"I want you to contact his school and the boys in his classes. They were all warned to say nothing – so they'll be defensive if anyone has talked. You could start with the Domino boys – we believe they were Rufus' closest friends."

"I'll start with their dad," nodded Reno, quick and decisive. "I can do that now."

"Good. Let me know as soon as you're certain, one way or the other."

"Yes, Sir."

Reno stood to leave, and Veld added, "I know Tseng's spoken to you already – but I wanted to add – good work in Costa del Sol. A lot of people would've missed the threat – even Turks."

"Thank you, Sir."

As Reno left Veld's office, trying not to grin too obviously, he heard the director shouting, "Lex! In here!" and tried to feel sorry for his senior, who had been in hot water ever since the jet-skiing incident – but Reno was too elated to spare much time worrying on Lex's behalf. Tseng had been complimentary – and the bonus on his payslip had been nice – but praise from Veld was rumoured to be as rare as chocobo teeth!

Bounding up the stairs to the sixty-second floor, Reno swiped his key-card, and entered Mayor Domino's gloomy realm: the research library and the almost empty offices of the nominal government. Apart from keeping Domino in his post, no pretence was made any longer that anything was actually governed from here. Midgar was run by Shin-Ra: Shin-Ra was run by Julius, and the handful of executives on the board who wielded any real power. Veld had more control over the running of Midgar than Domino did. Hell, thought Reno, with a wry grin, _I _probably have more control than Domino does! At least, if I put a suggestion to Veld, he might pass it on to the board…

Domino's door was open. The Mayor of Midgar was leaning back in a worn office chair, feet up on his empty desk, reading a book. He looked over his shoulder as Reno entered, put down his book, dropped his feet to the floor and swivelled the chair around. Running a hand through short, greying hair, the Mayor took in Reno's dark blue suit and gave a little smile. "I thought Turks wore ties?" he commented.

"Not all of us."

"So – they're recruiting children now?"

Reno bristled. "I'm no kid. I'm nineteen!"

"Forgive me. To an old man like me…" Domino sighed. "My daughter's nineteen. How can I help you Mr…?"

"Just Reno."

"Well, Reno, if it's a book you want, you've come to the right place." He turned to pat the thick volume on the desk. "I've read almost all of them now – since it's all they let me do. This one's from the last shelf of the last case. Fascinating stuff: _The Ancients in History_. Do you know much about the Ancients, Turk?"

"Nope. I got enough to do dealing with the moderns! I'm not after a book – just information."

"I see. I suppose people like you don't have much time for reading. Why is it that when a Turk says he's after information, I begin to feel intimations of dread?"

Reno was starting to find Domino irritating. Why did everyone assume that he was illiterate, just because he looked like a product of the slums? "Well - I don't know," he snapped. "Why is it that when people patronise me, I begin to feel _intimations_ of impatience, do you think?"

Domino smiled at that. "I apologise. I'm sure Veld only recruits the best. What do you want to know?"

"Your sons were at school with Rufus Shinra?"

Domino sat up straighter and his insouciant demeanour vanished. "They were. Why?"

Reno took a chance, and pushed the truth a little: "The president is trying to find out who may have leaked information about Lazard to Rufus, when everyone was under strict instructions to say nothing."

"Not my boys." Domino's skin was already pallid – probably the result of spending too much time shut away in the dimly-lit library and this windowless office – but now his complexion turned a greenish grey. "Sebastian told me about the incident. It was another boy – I forget his name."

_Result. _

"I'd try hard to remember, if I were you," said Reno, his voice level. "While you're doing that, tell me about this – incident."

"Sebastian said that this boy taunted Rufus about Lazard, and Rufus didn't know anything about it. He said Rufus pinned the boy up against the wall, and almost killed him. After he found out, he fell out with Sebastian, and Alexander, because they admitted that they'd known about Lazard."

"Alexander? Your other son?"

"They called him Sacha – at school. I never cared for it much – but it's the name he goes by now. He's a cellist… You know, Rufus used to play the piano – so beautifully. It's a shame…"

Reno remembered Rufus in Costa del Sol watching the recording of Sacha Domino playing in the concert in Junon, but he said nothing. His job was to collect information, not give it away.

"And the name of the boy who talked?"

The mayor sighed, and looked down at his hands. "Dominic." He looked up, the expression in his tired, grey eyes convincing Reno that he was telling the truth. "I don't know his other name, but there were only five of them in the class."

"Good. That's all I need. You won't mention this conversation to anyone." Reno didn't wait for a response: he hadn't phrased his last remark as a question. As he turned to go, Domino said, "Don't have any children Turk. Don't let anyone get close. They can't touch you if there's no-one you care about."

"Don't you worry about me," Reno told him. "I'm planning on stayin' untouchable, yo."

"Quickest mission ever," thought Reno, re-entering the Department of Administrative Affairs in time to see a flushed-looking Lex emerging from Veld's office. Reno sat back down at his desk immediately and typed a hasty one-paragraph report on his meeting with Domino, sending the file straight through to the Director as soon as he'd finished. When he'd done that, he wandered over to the coffee machine and poured himself a cup of boiling water, before heading for Kit's desk and hovering hopefully. Kit sighed and pushed his glasses back up his nose. "On the scrounge again Reno?"

"Ah, c'mon Kit! You know the shit in that machine's undrinkable!"

"Yes, I do. Which is why I bring my own, slightly more palatable shit."

"I'll buy the next jar."

"That's what you said when I bought the last one."

"Yeah, but –"

"And the one before that."

From the next desk, Dana commented, "I don't know why you bother anyway. Instant coffee's instant coffee. You should do what I do, and have a nice cup of herbal tea. You're welcome to try one, both of you – I've got peppermint, rosehip or camomile."

Kit and Reno looked at each other.

"All right!" Kit conceded, shaking his head as he took a jar of Gongaga Gold-Blend from his top desk drawer while handing Reno a teaspoon. "Just – make sure you keep that promise to buy the next jar."

"Will do!" Reno grinned at Dana over Kit's head, and said, "Thanks for the offer, D, but I'm not really a camomile kind of a guy." Dana winked at him, knowing from many repeats of this same performance that Kit's horror of herbal teas always ensured his sympathy – and therefore his coffee - for anyone she offered them to. Reno would buy her a real drink in Goblins Bar later in the week.

Taking his not-quite-as-disgusting-as-the-machine coffee back to his desk, Reno considered finishing the hand-written report he'd been working on earlier at Tseng's insistence, because, according to Tseng, Reno's handwriting had been so neglected of late that it had become almost illegible. Searching around for something – anything – to do that wasn't that, Reno decided to call up the Turks' general access files on Lazard Deusericus.

The photo in the file made it immediately apparent that Lazard was the president's son. Without the glasses, he would have looked uncannily like a slightly older version of Rufus Shinra. Lazard lacked some of Rufus's fineness of feature, and it seemed, from this picture at least, that Rufus' eyes were a paler, icier blue– those things the younger boy had inherited from his mother. Lazard's genes had given him his father's stubborn jaw line to a greater degree than Rufus, although that might change as Rufus got older. Other than those differences the president's sons were remarkably alike, from their pale blond hair, to their straight, aristocratic noses and the unusually perfect symmetry of their faces.

Reading quickly through Lazard's file, Reno noted that Lazard was twenty years old, had been raised in the Sector Eight slums, and that his mother – Laure Deusericus – had been a single parent who worked as an exotic dancer in a variety of nightclubs and bars – including the Honeybee Inn in the slums below Sector Five, where Reno had grown up. Reno remembered the Honeybee - not that he'd ever been inside when he lived in the slums – but because there was a useful alleyway running behind it that he'd used several times as an escape route during his year-long game of cat-and-mouse with Tseng.

Lazard appeared to be making his way through the ranks remarkably quickly – or perhaps it wasn't all that remarkable, if the president's influence had been at all responsible for his impressive list of promotions. Mainly based in the Science Department, Lazard had a background in biochemistry and seemed to be involved in the SOLDIER programme, working under Hojo's supervision.

Reno shuddered, thinking about Hojo. He'd only met the man on a handful of occasions, but there was something about the scientist that made his skin crawl – the way he peered at you over those glasses, as though you were some kind of specimen he'd earmarked for a particularly unpleasant experiment. A year of living on the streets of the slums had honed Reno's instincts for detecting when a situation felt inherently _wrong_ – and to him the whole idea of SOLDIER – of infusing human beings with mako – felt very wrong. Sure, SOLDIERS were superhuman, their levels of strength, stamina and speed impossibly high – but at what cost? Reno was certain of one thing – he may be happy enough to pump alcohol and nicotine into his system on a regular basis – but no-one was getting near him with weird shit like mako. Materia was bad enough – he tried to avoid using cure whenever possible – but at least its effects were relatively predictable.

So – Lazard was interested in Hojo's dark arts, was he? Reno surprised himself then, by feeling suddenly protective towards Rufus. "Don't go that route, kid," he thought. "You stick with the Turks – you can count on us, yo!"

Reno wondered what Rufus felt about having a brother. While growing up, Reno had sometimes asked his own mom whether he was ever going to have a brother or sister – but the question had always turned her eyes sad and he'd soon learned not to mention it. Joe had made it quite clear that as far as he was concerned Reno had been an unwelcome accident - more kids were never on the cards.

So, Rufus had found out about Lazard's existence, and had kept it to himself. And he blamed his friends for concealing the information from him - which explained the tense atmosphere between Rufus and Seb Domino that Rude had mentioned noticing when the two boys had met on the beach in Costa del Sol. Now that he thought about it, Reno remembered looking up from his frantic attempts to locate Mallory Hyde via the computer, and being struck by the expression on Rufus' face as he watched the recording of Sacha playing in the concert in Junon. It had been a difficult expression to interpret – a mixture of admiration and envy, and something else Reno hadn't been able to define. Recalled in the light of Mayor Domino's revelation, perhaps it had been anger, or the consciousness of betrayal? The hectic events of that evening and all that followed it had put the incident out of Reno's mind until now.

Looking back at the photograph of Lazard, Reno noted that the man's left ear was pierced, like his own, and his hair was swept back in a style that was more characteristic of the slums than the plate. Strange to think that this son of President Shinra had an upbringing not a million miles from Reno's own – literally and metaphorically. Rufus on the other hand – with his exclusive schooling – had Domino really said there were only _five _boys in his class? – his hunting and shooting, and his music lessons – was a world away from Reno.

"Hey, Rude," Reno called over to his partner, who was busy doing proper work. "Did you know that Rufus Shinra plays the piano?"

"No. Is it important?"

"Don't suppose so. Just thinking…"

"He used to play," Dana told them. Older than Tseng, Dana had been a bodyguard on duty at some of Lucia's receptions. "I think his father thought it was a waste of time." She smiled and lowered her voice, with a glance towards Tseng's office. "_He_ plays though. I heard him once, when we were doing a security sweep of the presidential apartments before some event – playing the president's grand piano, cool as you like!"

"Tseng? Really?" Reno asked, surprised.

"Yes. You wouldn't think, would you? The most unlikely people…" Dana raised her eyebrows. "How about you, Reno? Do you play anything?"

Reno scoffed at the thought, although something inside him gave a little twist as he wondered how far down the list of priorities music lessons would have come in his household. He shot Dana a grin anyway, and shook his head. "Only the field, D," he told her, with a wink.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

"The president wants to see you in his office at ten," Tseng informed Rufus the next morning, as the boy pushed away his half-eaten toast and sipped his black coffee without enthusiasm.

"I see." Rufus' tone was flat, and his voice emotionless as he asked, "Do you have any idea what it's about?"

"I believe it's part business and part personal, Sir," Tseng replied, which told Rufus precisely nothing. The Turk Second in Command stood beside the window, calm and professional as always. Rufus sighed. "Perhaps he's finally going to let me _do_ something! Ever since we got back from Costa del Sol no-one's let me do anything at all. I thought I was supposed to be learning to run the company?"

"Hmm. I think your rather… over-enthusiastic participation in the mission to extract you from Costa might have played a part in that," Tseng told him, the mere hint of a smile curving his lips. "I understand that Lex asked you to be careful…"

"Yes. But I didn't actually intend to break my own arm! I just hit the water harder than I expected to."

"At that speed, you're lucky you didn't break your neck."

"Hmph."

"The president feels that there is still too much of a security risk to allow you out of the building."

Rufus scowled. "And do you agree with that? Because it's been three months, and nothing's happened." The boy looked up at Tseng, his eyes suddenly bright. "Has it? Or have there been developments?"

Tseng shook his head. "No. Unfortunately, we have so far failed to find any trace of the man calling himself Mallory Hyde."

"Well – _there's_ something I could do. Let me help on the case! I have so much free time, and I'm good with computers."

"I'm not denying that would be helpful," replied Tseng, appearing to take Rufus' suggestion seriously. "But you'd need to ask your father first."

"All right, I will," said Rufus, suddenly enthusiastic. "I'd better get ready. Perhaps, if I look the part…"

When Rufus emerged from his dressing room twenty minutes later, Tseng had to admit that he'd made a fair job of appearing professional. Pretty much the whole of Rufus' extensive wardrobe consisted of monochrome clothing. Now he was wearing a sharply cut white suit and a black shirt, rather severely buttoned all the way up. He held a white tie in one hand. "What do you think?" he asked Tseng, "Tie, or no tie? I was aiming for a kind of negative Turk look – but the tie might be a bit much?"

"I think so," Tseng replied, trying not to smile at the idea of a 'negative Turk look'.

"Hmm." Rufus went back into his dressing room to replace the tie, and when he reappeared, Tseng noticed that he'd unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. The boy seemed possessed of an innate sense of style: perhaps his mother's genes were responsible for that? His father's certainly weren't! And Rufus knew what suited him too – the black and white of his clothes coupled with the muted gold of his hair and his pale skin, meant that the gaze was inevitably drawn to the bright, ice blue of his eyes.

Remembering his last meeting with his father, when he'd been deliberately late, Rufus said, "I'd better go - if I'm aiming to look serious this time…"

"Reno should be here in five minutes, to escort you. I have a meeting with Veld."

"Is that level of security really necessary inside the building? I think I can make it up to the seventieth floor without a bodyguard."

"I'm afraid your father's orders were quite specific."

Rufus sighed, but only said, "Of course."

Not for the first time of late, Tseng found himself impressed by the boy's patience. Was it simply a sign of increasing maturity, or had Rufus Shinra already learned how and when to pick his battles?

Reno was exactly on time. Tseng opened the door to his knock, and the red-haired Turk nodded briefly. "Boss."

"Reno. Good. I'll leave things in your hands then. Goodbye, Rufus."

"Tseng." Rufus watched as Tseng walked away along the corridor, then smiled at Reno, his expression unusually animated. "I'm going to ask my father if I can help out in Administrative Research," the boy informed Reno. "Working on the Mallory Hyde investigation."

"Ah – right… good," replied Reno, a little vaguely. Rufus frowned. The Turk seemed on edge. He fidgeted, tapping his fingers against the handgrip of his EMR as he waited for Rufus to pick up his laptop case. Scanning the corridor, Reno asked, "So – we good to go?"

"Yes."

Rufus followed Reno quickly along the corridor and into the elevator. Once the doors were closed behind them, Reno visibly relaxed, but only slightly.

"What's wrong?" Rufus asked.

"Nothing's wrong, yo!" Reno frowned, turned to glance at the grey morning view over Midgar, looked back at Rufus. He seemed about to say something, then hesitated.

"I don't suppose _you_ know why my father wants to see me?" asked Rufus, unsettled by the normally easy-going Reno's apparent unease. Reno looked decidedly shifty. He took out his PHS and, for some reason, tested the ringtone. A cheery chirruping call reverberated in the confined space. Reno leaned close to Rufus' ear, and when he spoke, his voice was very low. "Look – Rufus – I shouldn't be telling you this… but yeah. I know. Your dad… wants to introduce you to someone. I… can't say more than that."

"Who?"

Reno shook his head, his voice so soft as to be almost inaudible. "You know who. Don't say it."

Rufus glanced at the glass walls, the panels of the ceiling. Was it possible even the elevators were bugged? He looked at Reno and mouthed, "Lazard?" Reno nodded, once. Aloud the Turk said, "Damn it! I'm always setting that off by accident. Once I sat on it in the middle of a meeting. Tseng was not amused."

"I should imagine not." Rufus' voice was impressively steady, but his expression was frozen. Reno could see the shock in his eyes – the realisation that he had a few minutes at most to compose himself – to decide how he was going to play the encounter.

Rufus' mind was working furiously. Reno knew Lazard was going to be at the meeting, and knew that Rufus was already aware of who he was. Did that mean the president knew that he'd found out about his half-brother, or not? In either case, what was his father trying to do? He looked at the Turk, trying to formulate a question that would sound innocent, but would give him the information he needed.

"So, you want to help out with the Hyde investigation?" asked Reno.

"Yes. If my father will allow it."

"I should think he would," Reno replied, looking at Rufus intently. "Your father _knows_ that _you_ know… a lot about computers and all that stuff. An extra member of the team would be a big help."

"Good. Well, I'll ask him. Thanks Reno."

Reno just nodded, and fell silent.

Rufus thought. "So the old man knows. He's testing me – seeing how I'll react. Well – I'll give him nothing. That's what he can't take. He wants a reaction – he _always_ wants a reaction. I'll give him… professional. I'll give him Turk-style indifference - act like Tseng. Lazard is nobody. His mother was from the slums, Dominic said. He's nothing."

The elevator came to a stop. Reno looked at Rufus. "All right?"

"Yes."

Reno escorted Rufus up the staircase to the president's huge office and waited as Rufus knocked. Julius Shinra's booming voice called out, "Come in Rufus!" Rufus' face was completely calm. As the boy entered the office, Reno saw the president standing behind his desk, smiling tightly. Lazard, sitting in a chair in front of the vast desk, turned to look at Rufus as he entered. Rufus shut the door behind him, quietly.

Reno sighed, making his way quickly back down the stairs, across the lobby and into the elevator. "Good luck in there, kid!" he thought. He wasn't sure why he'd let Rufus know about Lazard – it was a stupid thing to do from his own point of view: Veld would be furious if he ever found out. "Hope he doesn't!" Reno thought, shaking his head. "Just when he's actually pleased with my work, too. Why do I get myself into this shit?" But something in Reno rebelled at the idea of Rufus' isolation – the way everybody kept everything from him. Ever since he'd found out about Lazard, Rufus must have been desperate for information, but clearly felt there was no-one he could ask. Any searches he did on his computer would be monitored, instantly giving away the fact that he knew something. The Turks were accountable to his father. Since leaving school, Rufus appeared to have shut himself off from all his friends. "Poor kid," Reno thought. "No-one's on his _side_."

That was the best part about being in the Turks, Reno reflected. Since joining he'd had plenty of assignments he'd hated – things he would never have dreamed himself capable of doing back when he'd been nothing but another kid from the Midgar slums. But however bad it got, the others were always there – to joke with in the office, to share after-work drinks in Goblins Bar – just to get what it meant – this whole _being a Turk_ thing.

When he reached the Department of Administrative Research, Reno walked quickly along the corridor, through the office door - almost colliding with Rude who was on his way out - and slid behind his own desk with a feeling of relief – a welcome sense of being home.

"Hey, Kit!" he called across to his older colleague.

Kit looked up, warily. "Reno?"

"If I _swear_ to go right out and buy a new jar as soon as we're off the clock… can I borrow some of your coffee?"

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Lazard got to his feet quickly, holding out his hand to his half-brother. Rufus gave him a cool, appraising glance, taking in his too-long hair, too brashly striped suit, unnecessarily flashy watch, and the gold stud in his left ear. Lazard's blue eyes were warm behind his glasses, and his expression was friendly and open, but Rufus knew better than to trust outward appearances.

After a pause just long enough to be interpreted as reluctance, Rufus held out his own hand, and shook Lazard's once, firmly.

"Lazard Deusericus." Lazard told him. "Pleased to meet you."

Rufus didn't return Lazard's smile. "Rufus. Rufus Shinra." He released Lazard's hand, managing to give the impression that he felt the brief contact had somehow sullied him. Taking no further notice of his brother, Rufus looked at his father. "You wanted to see me?" he asked, as though Lazard's presence in the office was Other Business and nothing to do with him.

Julius Shinra was watching Rufus closely. The boy's apparent calm threw him – was it possible Veld had been mistaken? His report had stated quite clearly that Rufus knew about his half-brother – and yet Rufus seemed to have no interest in Lazard at all.

Rufus kept his eyes on his father's face, assuming an expression of slight boredom. The urge to look at Lazard was very strong: Rufus had been surprised by the instant sense of recognition he had felt – visceral and undeniable –a powerful feeling of connection. But he would never let his father see that.

Next to him he could sense Lazard's gaze on him. Well – let him look. He'd better get used to watching from the sidelines while Rufus discussed business with his father and made decisions.

"I called you up here to introduce you to Lazard!" Julius told Rufus, his tone challenging.

Rufus glanced back at Lazard and then at his father, as though surprised. "Oh. Well – now you have. There's something I wanted to discuss with you, actually – concerning my employment within the company. We… touched on it at our last meeting, if you remember?" Lazard had no way of knowing that the meeting Rufus referred to had been three years earlier. "I was wondering if I could work with the Turks? I believe I could be useful, and I'm sure I'd learn a great deal."

Julius Shinra's expression darkened ominously. "We will discuss your position in the company later, Rufus. Sit down."

Rufus raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told, leaning back slightly in his chair, his right arm casually positioned on the armrest to show Lazard that he was completely relaxed.

Julius got to his feet and leaned heavily on his massive desk, looking down at his sons. "Lazard has been working with Hojo on the SOLDIER programme for nearly three years now," the president told Rufus. "He's a clever young man – like you. Very interested in science, aren't you my boy?"

Rufus had to struggle not to let his anger show at that epithet. He made himself look across at Lazard as if mildly interested. "Really?" he enquired. "Working with Hojo must be… an experience."

Lazard gave an amused little smile, which might have been charming on anyone else, but which Rufus told himself he found irritating.

"Oh yes," Lazard replied, "It's certainly opened my eyes to a lot of things I hadn't considered before." He pushed his hair back with an automatic gesture that startled Rufus by its familiarity. Muscle memory in Rufus' hand almost persuaded him to echo the movement before he caught himself. Part of Rufus wanted to ask Lazard about his work, but a bigger part told him to remain aloof. "I'm sure," was all he said. Lazard only smiled again, eyes cast down. Rufus was suddenly taken aback by a surge of fury directed almost equally at his father and Lazard. He barely suppressed an urge to leap out of his chair and hit one of them – he hardly cared which. But that was probably exactly the kind of reaction his father had been expecting. Perhaps even hoping for? Rufus suspected that the old bastard had been looking forward to playing off his sons against each other. "You want me to fight for your affections?" Rufus thought, and the idea steadied him, and made him smile. "Tough luck, Dad – it's years too late for that. I'll fight for control of the company. That's all I want from you!"

President Shinra looked from Rufus to Lazard and back. The pair of them wore identical, ironic little smiles – as though they were party to some kind of private joke.

"What in the name of Shiva is so fucking funny?" he demanded, exasperated.

His sons looked up at him and raised their eyebrows.

"Nothing," said Lazard, calmly.

"Nothing," said Rufus with a shade more petulance. They looked at each other then, both registering the similarities in the tone and timbre of their voices. Lazard smiled at Rufus, who had to resist an urge to smile back. He looked at his father instead. "Well," Rufus said, grabbing the initiative, "I've met Lazard… so if you don't want to discuss the idea of me helping the Turks, perhaps I should be going?"

This meeting was not progressing at all as Julius Shinra had anticipated. He'd expected anger from Rufus, or sarcastic put-downs, or fireworks of some kind. Hadn't Veld's report said he'd almost killed the boy who told him about Lazard's existence? All he was getting was this weary indifference. He slammed his hands down onto the desk, and exclaimed, "For Gaia's sake, Rufus – you do _know_ that Lazard is your gods-damned brother, don't you?"

"Yes, Sir. Of course," said Rufus with a wave of his hand, as though the question were almost too trivial to bother with.

"And don't you have anything to say to him – or to me? Meeting your brother for the first time?"

A list of questions flashed through Rufus' mind – questions that had kept him awake at night ever since Dominic had told him about Lazard's existence: _Why did you want to keep on screwing some tart from the slums when you were married to the most beautiful woman in the world? _

_Why didn't you tell me I had a brother?_

_Did you ever love my mother? _

_Do you love Lazard more than me?_

_Do you love me at all?_

Rufus knew he would never ask any of them – feared he already knew most of the answers in any case.

"Uh… Not really. Is there some kind of accepted protocol for this kind of meeting? Is there anything you'd _like _me to ask?" He turned to Lazard, all professional politeness. "Is there anything _you'd_ like to ask _me_, Lazard? But then, I suppose you've known about me for a long time..."

Lazard nodded slowly, trying to work out what Rufus' real feelings might be beneath that frosty façade. It was very difficult to tell. "I've known about you since you were born," he said. "I remember seeing you on television, outside the Sector One Maternity Hospital. My mother told me, 'That's Rufus Shinra.' I was five. She didn't tell me you were my brother, though. She just made sure I watched everything with you and your family on it. She bought those celebrity magazines." Lazard smiled. "I remember being jealous of one picture – you must have been about eight – and for your birthday you had a working car – mako powered – that you could actually drive."

Rufus remembered the car - the excitement of driving it around the house – the disappointment of realising that he'd have to leave it behind when he returned to school. "I had a lot of _things_," he said, rather more bitterly than he'd intended. He didn't want Lazard's memories - he certainly didn't want Lazard's friendship – so he added, "I suppose you didn't have much at all – living in the slums."

"No," said Lazard, smiling, and not seeming at all put out by the comment. "But I don't think Dad ever missed a birthday. Of course, I didn't know who he was for a long time. Mom told me he was a friend. I thought he just _looked_ like President Shinra."

Rufus felt as though he was going to be sick. It took every scrap of his self-control to pull himself together as he processed Lazard's words: _I don't think Dad ever missed a birthday._ What made it worse was that Lazard clearly hadn't meant it as a method of point-scoring - he simply accepted his father's presence as a normal part of his life. Everyone had always told Rufus that his father was just too busy for such things.

_Too busy for me_, Rufus thought. _But not too busy for Lazard. _

He made himself look at his father, forcing pain and resentment deep down inside himself – assuming a bored expression. "That's… interesting," he said, his tone expressive of nothing so much as the desire to yawn. "I didn't know that."

"Well," said Julius, glancing rather uneasily from Rufus to Lazard, "I'm glad that's all… out in the open. No more family secrets, hmm? Good, good. Now, the question is one of direction. Rufus – I think your suggestion's a good one. You can work with the Turks for now. I'll inform Veld. Perhaps, in a few months' time, you can spend some time with SOLDIER too. I'm sure your brother would be happy to show you around, eh, Lazard?"

"Yes – whenever you like," replied Lazard, looking at Rufus as though he meant it.

"And Lazard – I take it you're happy to continue working in the Science Department, for the immediate future?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Well then… That's all for now. Lazard – you can go. Rufus – call Veld and tell him to send someone to escort you down to Administrative Research. You may as well start at once."

As Rufus flipped open his PHS and scrolled down to Veld's number, he became aware of Lazard standing beside him. He looked up. "Can I help you?"

"It was nice to meet you, Rufus," Lazard told him. "Perhaps we could have a drink sometime – something… less formal?"

"Perhaps." Rufus' tone was as far from encouraging as he could make it.

"You can always contact me in the labs," said Lazard.

"Oh – I'm sure Veld will get me your number, should the need arise," replied Rufus.

"Well – goodbye, Rufus."

Rufus pressed _call_, and held the PHS to his ear. He waved at Lazard, dismissively. "Bye," he said. "Oh, Veld. Yes – I've finished here. I need an escort immediately. Thank you."

Once Lazard had left the office, Julius asked, "So, Rufus – what do you make of your brother, hmm?"

"Am I obliged to make something of him?" Rufus asked. "Because I'm not sure I understand how he's relevant to me."

"One day you two will run Shin-Ra between you," Julius began.

That got Rufus' attention.

"_Between_ us? You said _I'd_ be VP!"

Julius chuckled. "Ah," he said, "That's more like it! And so you shall, Rufus, so you shall. But Lazard will hold an important position in the company too."

Rufus relaxed. "Fine. As long as I'm VP – Lazard can do what he likes. But, in that case, I still don't see how he's relevant to me."

"He's your brother, Rufus."

"Yes, but apart from that?"

Julius sighed. "One day, you might be glad that you have a brother."

Rufus said nothing. There was a knock on the door, and Tseng appeared, calm and efficient as always. The sight of him was a catalyst to Rufus, who jumped to his feet at once.

"All right," Julius told him – off you go."

Rufus nodded, and followed Tseng without another word.

_Gaia!_ thought Julius Shinra as his legitimate son left the room. _When did he get to be such a cold little bastard? He belongs with the Turks – with Veld and that icy Wutaian he promoted so fast. Too much of his mother in Rufus – always was. No passion – no fire. Give me Lazard any day. At least that boy has some warmth in his veins – just like _his_ mother did. Perhaps I should have married her, after all? Laure Deusericus – now she was a real woman, my Laure!_

As soon as the elevator doors hissed shut, Rufus walked across to look out over Midgar. Without turning round he asked, "Tseng – did you _know_ that Lazard was going to be at that meeting?"

"Yes, Sir."

"You could have warned me."

"That would have gone against my orders."

Rufus turned to face Tseng and for a moment the Turk thought he saw a flash of absolute fury in the boy's eyes – but then it was gone, and he was left wondering if he'd imagined it. In a calm, almost bored tone, Rufus asked, "Would those be Veld's orders? Or my father's?"

"Veld's orders _are_ your father's Rufus."

"Hm. Well – it doesn't matter, I suppose. Lazard seems… harmless."

_Harmless_? It was hardly the word Tseng would have expected Rufus to use about a brother he'd never even met bef –

Suddenly Tseng's attention was caught by something _wrong_ in the sky beyond the glass of the elevator – a Shin-Ra helicopter, much too close and hovering _below_ them, turning towards the building so that as they descended –

Tseng grabbed Rufus and flung him towards the doors shouting, "Get down!" He lunged for the control panel, eyes on the indicator telling him that they'd just past the sixty-third floor, and pressed sixty-two desperately. Positioning himself directly in front of Rufus, he drew his gun, and said, "As soon as the doors open, run into the building. Don't look back. Get behind something. Keep low."

"Why?" gasped Rufus, "What's –"

From his position crouched on the floor behind Tseng, Rufus fell silent as he saw, right in front of him, the spinning blades of a helicopter, then the sinister black-tinted glass of the cockpit –

The elevator stopped. The pilot hadn't been expecting that – the stubby muzzles of the helicopter's machineguns were still below the level of the elevator floor.

Why weren't the doors opening?

Then Rufus realised that they were – with agonising slowness. He pushed against them, trying to keep low. Behind him, the helicopter started to rise.

"Run!" Tseng shouted, pushing him hard.

Then Rufus was through the doors, sprinting into the building, Tseng just behind him. The Turk seized Rufus by the arms, propelled him sideways into a narrow corridor and covered the boy's body with his own as behind them the familiar world became a hell of noise and bullets and splintered glass.

Rufus counted three separate bursts of machinegun fire, the staccato of the weapons muffled by the thunder of the helicopter's rotors and the wind they created.

He registered pain in his right arm – the one he'd broken in Costa del Sol.

The whirring of the helicopter's blades diminished and Rufus heard Tseng, still lying over him, shouting urgently into his PHS.

The sound of the helicopter faded away, and Rufus became aware of alarms blaring inside the building. Tseng got to his feet, still talking, holding out his left hand to Rufus. Rufus took it and stood up, brushing debris from his clothing. Tseng looked at him, putting the PHS back into his pocket. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Rufus nodded. "Yes. I'm fine." He frowned. "But you're not! You're bleeding!"

Tseng followed the direction of Rufus' gaze and saw a jagged gash in his left thigh where a piece of flying glass must have hit him as he'd dived into the corridor. Examining the cut briefly, he saw that it was deep, but probably not dangerous. Before Tseng could stop him, Rufus had stripped off his jacket and pressed it against the wound to staunch the bleeding. "Thank you," said Tseng, with a little smile. "I'm afraid that must be the world's most expensive bandage!" He took the jacket from Rufus, and held it tight against his leg, saying, "We need to evacuate the building."

"You're staying here until we get help," Rufus told him. "Do you expect more attacks?"

"We don't know, at this point. The priority is to get you to safety."

"Not until we've stopped that bleeding."

Behind them a door opened. Rufus and Tseng whirled to face it. Mayor Domino looked at them quizzically, a book clutched in one hand and an ancient-looking pistol in the other. "Ah," he said, lowering the gun. "Tseng, of the Turks, isn't it? And Rufus Shinra. That explains things. I didn't think I was important enough for anyone to be trying to kill _me_! If you'll be good enough to wait a moment, I do believe I have a first aid kit in here somewhere…"

Tseng looked at Domino, astonished. He was even more surprised when, next to him, Rufus Shinra shook his head in frank disbelief, and started laughing.

* * *

**TBC**

**Thank you for reading.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Oh dear - I'm sorry this has taken so long to update. Real Life will keep getting in the way of the important things, like writing fan fiction! **

**This chapter's a bit administrative I'm afraid: but we are dealing with the Department of Administrative Research after all. One day I'm going to have to write a fic called 'Who DARes Wins'. Just for the title!**

**Thank you for your kind reviews and favourites - and your patience. The next chapter is almost complete, so will be up much more quickly than this one was - that's a promise. **

* * *

"So – remind everyone - what do we know about this secretary?" Veld was outwardly calm, but Tseng could sense the fury that simmered just beneath the director's tightly held control. The president, of course, had been incandescent.

"Very little, Sir, except what was in his file already. Came from Gongaga –" Tseng registered the way Veld's gaze slid in Kit's direction before he caught himself, as though the Turk were in some way responsible for his fellow Gongagan's terrorist actions – "He was from a stable farming family, came to Midgar five years ago, worked for Shin-Ra for nearly three years. All security checks were clear. We had no idea that he'd learned to fly helicopters –"

"Why not?" Veld queried, frowning.

"It seems he took a lot of steps to cover his tracks. An alias, excellent fake ID, cover story. And he did his training near Palmer's space research facility, at a civilian airfield near Iselheim village, mostly used by hobbyists. He told everyone in the office he'd met a girl from Iselheim. Showed them photos – talked about her non-stop for the last three months so the research assistants told me - and supposedly went to see her every weekend."

"He learned to fly in three months?" Rude asked.

"Yes, but not well. If he'd been a better pilot Rufus and I would be dead. When I stopped the elevator it confused him – took him too long to adjust the height."

"Still," said Reno, turning away from the window where he stood staring down into Midgar, "He was in a controlled hover that close to the building – so he did pretty well for a beginner."

Rufus, who had insisted on being allowed to attend the meeting, looked at Reno and raised his eyebrows. "Did pretty _well_?"

Veld held up a warning hand. "Rufus… What's your point, Reno?"

Reno shrugged. "Either he was a natural, or he'd put in the hours. Must've been committed, is all I'm saying. Fits with what we've seen of Hyde so far."

Tseng frowned. "Surely you don't think _he_ was Hyde?"

"No. I think he was another Simon Payton."

"That's possible," Veld said, "But we have no real evidence to link the two attacks."

"Except timing," pointed out Rufus. "If this guy – what was his name?"

"Ben Gale," Veld replied, his eyes on the notes in front of him. Reno, who could never sit still during meetings and who had a good view of the whole table from his position leaning against the window, noticed something odd when Veld said the name. His tone was calm and even, but there was an almost imperceptible tensing in him as he spoke – and not only in him. It seemed to affect several others too – Lex definitely, and Dana. Possibly Tseng – although he was naturally so still that it was difficult to tell. The most surprising reaction came from Rufus, however. The boy's head jerked up and for a moment he gave Veld a penetrating stare that the Director, still looking at his notes, didn't see. Then Rufus' expression transformed, as the boy got hold of himself and assumed an impassive mask. Reno made no comment, but noted the strange responses to Ben Gale's name, filing them away in the corner of his brain devoted to 'things that feel weird'.

Rufus nodded slowly. "Ben Gale, right. Well – if he started learning to fly three months ago – that was right after the attempted attacks at Icicle and Costa del Sol. Mallory Hyde could have moved straight on with a new plan. In which case, he's very determined."

"Yes, that's certainly possible," conceded Veld. "But it's equally possible that the two attacks could be unrelated. Tseng –run through what we know about Gale's movements immediately prior to the attack."

"He was working on Floor sixty seven – he'd been assigned to the Science Department for the last eighteen months, after the last two female secretaries put in those complaints about Hojo. Shortly after Lazard returned from the meeting with the President and Rufus, Gale received a phone call from the President's secretary. Then he took the elevator to the roof, using a key card he shouldn't have had – we recovered that from the wreckage of the helicopter – shot the two guards with a gun that he also shouldn't have had – entered the alert chopper and shot the pilot. Then he flew straight down to floor sixty and circled, waiting for the elevator."

"Was the President's secretary involved in the plot?"

"No, Sir. When I interrogated her she told me that Gale had phoned at ten past ten, saying that Hojo wanted to talk to the President urgently. She told him that the President wouldn't be available until after his ten o'clock meeting, and he asked her to phone him the instant that meeting was over, which she did. The phone records confirm her story. Gale was lying – Hojo didn't want to speak to the President. Gale needed to know the second Rufus left the meeting. Everything was timed perfectly. What we don't know is how in Gaia Gale knew Rufus was going to be in that meeting."

"It seems a precarious plan," Dana said, pushing her chestnut hair back from her face. "He only had minutes to execute it. Why do something so risky?"

"We think it was because of the elevators," Veld told her. "They're the only really weak spots on the exterior of the building. I remember that point being raised with Tuesti way back when HQ was still at the design stage. All the windows are bulletproof – even machinegun bullets shouldn't be able to penetrate them. But, apparently, it's hard to make strong enough glass with the necessary degree of curvature. Tuesti was wedded to his design for panoramic elevators, and the President supported him."

"But why attack the _outside_ of the building at all?" Dana persisted. "If he was already inside, with a gun?"

Veld looked at Rufus. The kid was supposed to be on work experience after all – and the case concerned him directly. "Any ideas, Rufus?" he asked. Rufus raised startled eyes to Veld, shocked at having his views sought on anything. He had a sudden vivid memory from years ago - one of the few times during his childhood that his father had asked for his opinion. It had been during his tenth birthday party – the last party his mother had arranged for him at home – and at some point during the evening he had found himself surrounded by Shinra executives. Barely reaching chest-height on most of them, Rufus remembered feeling overwhelmed by the smell of sweat, assorted aftershaves, Scarlet's sharp perfume. And the weird collection of colours: Heidegger's green uniform contrasting rather sickeningly with Palmer's hideous mustard suit; his father's favourite plumy red clashing with Scarlet's flame-coloured evening gown. No wonder he had always favoured black and white!

Julius had given him a rare smile and asked, "So, Rufus, we're at war with Wutai now, eh? What do you think of that?"

The memories of panic and a desperate search for something sensible to say were still strong five years later. As Rufus had hesitated Julius' smile had started to slip, and he'd said, with forced joviality, "Don't be shy - speak up, boy!"

"I suppose – it's a regrettable necessity," Rufus had said at last, remembering something he'd read in a newspaper. The truth was he'd had no idea what he thought: the very notion of a war seemed terrifying and exciting in equal measure. His father's eyes had narrowed, and Rufus remembered the bitter feeling of knowing he'd somehow failed, but Scarlet had given one of her braying laughs and said, "The boy's a born diplomat, Julius. You must be proud," and the adults had continued their conversation over his head.

Rufus felt just as he had then – his heart beating too fast – his mind racing – as Veld waited for his response. But he was no longer a child, and he was pleased that his voice sounded steady as he gave his thoughts. "I suppose I'm not an easy target inside the building," he said. "One of you is always with me. Gale couldn't be certain that he'd get me before you took him down. And an attack on the outside of the building is a visible symbol of defiance, and much harder to cover up. A strike at Shin-Ra anyone in Midgar can see – certain to win support from other anti-Shin-Ra factions."

Veld nodded. "Yes. One that could well have succeeded. Luckily the SOLDIER alert chopper shot him down remarkably quickly, and we recovered the wreckage completely. I think even the media believed the rookie pilot error story we gave them – a direct attack on the Shin-Ra building simply seems too far-fetched to be credible, at this stage. Of course, if the attacks keep coming, concealing them is going to prove increasingly difficult."

Rufus nodded at Veld's words, but he was hardly listening. Veld had asked for his opinion, and accepted it – just as if he were one of the Turks! Rufus found he had to concentrate very hard on keeping his expression serious, when he was actually feeling something like joy at this unaccustomed sense of approval. When he looked up he saw Reno watching him from across the room. The red-haired Turk gave him a brief nod, and this time, Rufus couldn't help smiling.

Veld was on his feet now, giving rapid orders. "All right, this is what we're going to do. Freya and Kit – you're going to Gongaga to get any background information you can on Ben Gale. Rude and Reno – you get over to that airfield, and find out everything there is to know about his helicopter training – times, dates - people he spoke to, whether this girlfriend of his actually exists – any possible links to Mallory Hyde. Lex and Dana, in Midgar – where he went, who his friends were – you know the drill. Tseng – you'll be coordinating operations – you're in the office until that leg's healed properly. We'll start work on re-vamping security at once – I want to know how the hell Gale got an unauthorised weapon into the building. Oh – and the elevators are not to be used until further notice."

Reno grinned. "President's gonna love that!" he said. Too late, he remembered that Rufus was in the room, but the boy only smiled wryly and commented, "The exercise will be good for him." Then he looked at Veld and asked, "What about me?"

"You? Well – you'll be in the office, clearly, analysing data."

"But – can't I go somewhere? To the airfield perhaps?"

"Of course not! This is the second attack on your life in three months."

"Yes – and the one that nearly succeed was here in the Shin-Ra building! Honestly, I think I'd be safer if no-one knew where I was."

"Kid has a point Boss," said Reno, pushing himself away from the window with a shrug of one shoulder, sticking his hands in the pockets of his unzipped jacket. He glanced across the room at Rude. "We'd take care of him, right partner?"

Rude's response was a nod and a quiet _hm_ of agreement.

Veld looked at Rufus thoughtfully. "It would have to be cleared with the President, of course," he said.

Rufus could hardly believe his request was actually being considered. Quickly he pointed out, "It might be a good idea. After all, until we know whether or not anyone else was working with Ben Gale, we have to assume this building's not secure. _Someone_ must have told him I was going to be in that meeting."

"Yes, that's true. Very well – I'll put it to the president when I make my report later this morning. Reno and Rude – get ready to leave. You too, Rufus. If he agrees, you'll be departing as soon as I have the authorisation."

"Yes, Sir," said three voices in unison.

"Freya and Kit – you go and get ready to leave for Gongaga. Everyone else – we'll continue here. We need to get this security leak found and plugged as fast as possible.

As they left Veld's office Reno looked back. _Something about the four people left in the room, the way Veld glanced towards the door, the way Tseng was already on his feet…_ Again, something felt _odd_, but he couldn't pin down exactly what it was.

Just in front of him, Rufus turned, the boy's eyes brighter than Reno had ever seen them. "A mission!" he exclaimed. "Do you think my father will really let me go?"

Reno shrugged. "I'd say it's about fifty-fifty. A small airfield over on the western continent shouldn't be too much of a danger – unless Mallory Hyde's there of course. But I'm betting, if he _is _responsible for this, he'll have gone to ground again the second he heard the news about the 'accidental' loss of a helicopter."

"I just hope Veld can convince the old man that I'll be safer away from Midgar."

"Leave it to the Boss," Reno advised. "He's pretty good at making sure things go the way he wants them to."

In Veld's office, the mood was sombre. Tseng was still, watching the Director. Lex leant his elbows on the table, and looked up expectantly. Dana was the first to speak. "I'm assuming a connection?"

"We don't know for sure." Veld's voice was low and steady. "It's obviously possible. Ben was Lee Gale's first cousin. They grew up together. Of course, we knew that when Ben was vetted for his job with us – but we felt, at the time, that to turn him away would be suspicious. And, as long as he was working for us, we could keep an eye on him – in theory. I still don't understand how he learned to fly without anyone finding out. We have no idea whether or not he knew anything about Lee's affair with Lucia Shinra, but we have to work on the premise that he did. Lex, when Kit and Freya get back from Gongaga I want you to go there posing as a friend of Ben's from Midgar and sound out anyone who knew him. Keep it very subtle. We'll give you an identity once we know more."

"Yes, Boss."

"We have to find out who told him that Rufus was going to be in that meeting. Apart from the President and Lazard, we're the only ones who knew, as far as we've been able to determine."

"But the meeting was scheduled?" Tseng asked. Veld nodded. Tseng continued, "So the President's secretary knew. But she's had an Alpha security check, of course. And she was as calm as anyone I've ever questioned when I asked her about Gale's phone call. I don't think she's implicated."

"No – I agree."

Dana asked, "Lazard?"

"It's a possibility we can't ignore. But it seems unlikely. If Lazard wanted rid of Rufus why chose a time when he'd be implicated himself? Unless it's some kind of double bluff. We won't discount Lazard, but we'll only pursue that line of enquiry if our other leads draw blanks."

Lex frowned. "Then it seems likely someone hacked the system and saw the memo from the president to us, or to the secretary. Did that state who would be at the meeting?"

"The one to me did," Veld replied. "Well – if someone's capable of hacking our security, I want them either dead, or working for us. Get on it, Lex."

"Reno's good at this stuff. If there's a trail, he'll find it," Lex said.

"Hm. When he gets back, I'll put him on it with you. But we do nothing – _nothing _– that might make Rufus take too much interest in Ben Gale, or arouse his suspicions. I'll get the President to allow Rufus to go with Rude and Reno. I don't want that boy anywhere near this part of the investigation. Keep him looking for Mallory Hyde."

"What about the others?" Dana asked. "What if Kit and Freya turn up something about Lee Gale in Gongaga?"

"We stick to the original story – Lee Gale was killed in action in Wutai. His records have been amended appropriately. If they find anything, explore _that_ as a possible motive for Ben's actions. Plenty of people are angry about the duration of the war and the numbers of casualties. It could be true, in any case."

"Right. So the whole Lee Gale incident stays between the President and the four of us."

"That's correct. If you suspect Rude, Kit, Reno or Freya of having any suspicions on that score, say nothing, and tell me. The fewer people ever have to know about it, the better for everyone. Rufus is the future of this company. He can never know our part in - what happened. Not unless _we _decide he needs to."

"Yes, Sir," murmured Dana, echoed by Lex and Tseng.

"All right. Let's get down to business." Veld pushed his chair under his desk and straightened his tie automatically. "I'm going to persuade the President to let Rufus go on this mission – for the boy's sake – and ours."

x-x-x

The Shinra Space Research and Development Station, which, for want of a suitably amusing acronym, the Turks referred to as _Palmerville_, turned out to be a collection of unimpressive grey prefab cabins surrounded by high fences topped with razor wire, located to the north of Iselheim - a tiny settlement of quaint, half-timbered cottages. Rufus followed Rude out of the helicopter, and stood on the tarmac of the landing strip, looking around with interest despite the drab scenery. The boy's blond hair flagged in the bitter northerly wind and he thrust his hands into the pockets of the black parka the Turks had insisted he wear. Reno jumped down from the cockpit and grinned at the shivering Rufus. "Costa it ain't!" he shouted above the moaning wind.

"No," Rufus called back, his eyes alight. "So much better!"

"You're crazy!" Reno replied, and for a second something rose in Rufus – an angry impulse of automatic authority: a Turk should _not_ speak to him so familiarly. And yet – for this mission, wasn't he supposed to be behaving like one of them? Unsure of how to respond, Rufus said nothing, turning to look back through steel fencing at the tiny village to the south, the sharp peaks of the Nibel Mountains a looming presence beyond. Rude, sensing Rufus' mood, said quietly, "Reno…"

Reno frowned. "What? Oh – right. No offence, Sir," he said, his tone _almost_ neutral. Rufus glanced at him, then away. "None taken," he murmured, wondering whether it was true.

Looking at the boy, who was standing motionless a little apart from the two Turks as always, Reno's eyes narrowed. What was it about Rufus Shinra that managed to irritate him and engage his sympathy at the same time? The way the kid stood so upright, his slender form almost a silhouette in the long evening light; the turn of his head so… so fucking _arrogant_. For fifteen the boy was amazingly self-possessed – but - so completely alone.

_Tch!_ Half annoyed, half amused, Reno walked over to Rufus and flipped up the hood of his parka with one hand. Rufus looked at him, startled, starting to frown, but Reno only smiled and said, "It's cold, yo. And – don't wanna go announcing your arrival to the whole base now. You're supposed to be keeping a low profile. Quit acting like you're running the show."

"Oh, right. Yes." Rufus didn't understand how Reno always managed to wrong-foot him. He _liked_ the Turk, he couldn't deny that, but at the same time there was something utterly exasperating about him. Suppressing a sigh, Rufus followed Reno as he headed for the largest cabin, Rude bringing up the rear. Not for the first time, Rufus wondered why, since Rude was the senior Turk, Reno always seemed to be the one taking the lead. _Fine one to talk about acting like you're running the show!_ Rufus thought moodily, his face darkening. But at the door of the cabin Reno turned before knocking and looked back at Rufus. "All set then, Boss?" he asked, with that infuriating grin. And Rufus found himself smiling back, in spite of himself.

The scientist who opened the door was thin and nervous-looking. He wore a blindingly white lab-coat and was holding a green ring binder with _Shinra Space Exploration Department_ embossed on the front in gold. Running a freckled hand though receding blond hair he stammered, "Y -You're the people from the D.A.R?"

"Yup." Reno walked past him, Rufus and Rude following.

"Please come in," the scientist said redundantly, peering out into the twilight before he closed the door, as though he hoped there might be some less intimidating, politer visitors waiting outside.

"Are you Dr. Crowther?" Rude asked, turning back to face the scientist, who was watching the three of them warily, his hand still on the door handle as though poised for flight.

"No. I'm D-Dixon – one of his researchers. Let me get Dr. Crowther for you?" The man made it sound like a plea. Rude nodded graciously, and the scientist almost ran from the room, relief obvious in his narrow face. Rufus looked at Reno curiously. "Do the Turks always have that effect on people?"

Reno laughed. "What can I say? I blame Rude – he's the frightening one, yo!"

"Hm," responded Rude, but Reno saw the telltale softening at the corners of his partner's mouth that meant he was amused.

Rufus glanced around the room, raising his eyebrows. "Not what I expected," he said quietly. The exteriors of the scattered grey cabins comprising the research station suggested that they would house basic, utilitarian equipment and furnishings, not this kind of expensive luxury.

"Trust Palmer!" Reno snorted before Rude turned his head in warning. Rufus walked across the deep pile of the carpet – the same ruby shade as the one in his father's office – and ran a hand along the back of a matching sofa that seemed to be upholstered in velvet, with gold piping. On a dark-wood coffee table stood an extravagantly ornate ormolu lamp. Rufus' lip curled in disdain, but he said nothing.

Dr. Crowther was a much more impressive figure than Dixon. A tall, broad-shouldered man in his fifties, he crossed the room in three long strides, holding out his hand to Rufus. "Rufus Shinra, welcome to our little facility," he said, his deep voice steady. "And two members of the Turks as well, I see. I'm Crowther. I must apologise gentlemen, Director Veld's message didn't give your names."

"I'm Rude, and this is Reno," Rude told him, nodding, but keeping his hands folded in front of him. Reno left his hands in his pockets and only tilted his chin in Crowther's direction, saying, "Veld's message can't have mentioned that Rufus was coming?"

"No. I recognised him from television reports and a social function I attended with Palmer."

"Right. Well, we'd appreciate it if his presence here was known to as few people as possible. He's not undercover, but don't spread the word, yeah? We're not here to question you or any of your people unless they have connections with Iselheim Airfield. This will be our base of operations for the next two or three days. We're going to need a list of everyone on site now, and anyone who's due to visit, plus access to their files, asap."

Dr. Crowther said calmly, "Certainly. And I'll arrange accommodation, of course. There are only six of us here at present, plus ten security." His expression soured slightly as he added, "Scarlet's commandeered my best rocket scientists for the war effort – four of them returned to Midgar last month. Since then, progress here has been frustratingly slow."

Rufus looked at Crowther with a little frown. "Still, I'm sure you would agree that winning the war with Wutai is significantly more important than sending a man into space? And any improvements your people in Midgar make in missile technology will feed back into this project in any case, won't they?"

If Crowther was taken aback by Rufus Shinra's quick grasp of the situation he didn't let it show on his face. Clearly taking his time to consider his answer, Crowther nodded slowly and said, "That's true, of course. Do I take it that you don't share your father's enthusiasm for the space program?"

Rufus waved a hand and assumed his best indifferent expression. "Oh – I have no real objection to it," he said airily. "But one naturally has to prioritise." He ran a finger along the back of the sofa again, smiling. "I'm not sure the budget is being spent… exactly as I would choose to spend it."

This time Dr. Crowther couldn't keep his face expressionless. "No," he frowned, suppressed anger apparent in his rather clipped speech, "Well, not everyone… That is – we weren't consulted…" He tailed off, clearly embarrassed.

"Still," Rufus added, as though he hadn't noticed Crowther's discomfort, "I suppose Palmer always has had a penchant for excesses – of many kinds." He looked at the scientist thoughtfully. "Perhaps, while I'm here, you can explain to me how launching someone into space will benefit Shin-Ra?"

"I'd – be delighted to," Dr. Crowther replied. "In the meantime, please, have a seat, and I'll send someone to show you to your rooms."

"Thank you," Rufus replied, inclining his head slightly.

Watching Crowther leave, Rufus unzipped his coat and shrugged it off, hanging it neatly over the back of a chair before seating himself on the velvet sofa, brushing creases Reno couldn't even see from the knees of his black pants. Reno vaulted over the back of the sofa and landed rather hard next to Rufus who gave a little tut of annoyance and commented, "Can't you just sit down like a normal person?"

"First thing you gotta understand about the Turks," Reno told him, grinning, "Is that we're not normal people. Right, Rude?"

"Hm," said Rude, which could equally have been agreement or denial.

Putting his feet up on the coffee table, Reno stretched easily and said, "You told Crowther how it is, Rufus! But – sending someone into space! Wouldn't that be something?"

Rufus looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure. It seems like a waste of money, to be honest. Do you have any idea how big Palmer's budget is? As much as the D.A.R. and the SOLDIER program put together. Last year it was bigger than Weapons Development. Scarlet was furious about it."

"Ah," said Reno shaking his head with mock sorrow. "Scarlet should know better than to judge a guy by the size of his budget…"

Rufus sniggered, then caught himself, and tried, too late, to look as though such schoolboy humour was beneath him. Reno laughed at his expression and Rufus thought about being offended, but found himself smiling instead. He decided, for the duration of this mission at least, not to make a fuss about Reno's casual attitude. He could always put a stop to it later, if the Turk's familiarity threatened to get out of hand. Being a Turk was _fun_, in a way that nothing else in his life had been so far. Was it wrong to want to enjoy it while it lasted?

x-x-x

Rufus was yelling, trying to explain something vitally important to Reno who couldn't hear him over the relentless hammering of helicopter blades, and then Reno was shouting at him to run, and it wasn't Reno after all, but Tseng, hair wet from the thunderstorm. Lightning flashed mako green, and the hard rain was mixed with machinegun bullets. Every time a raindrop hit the outside of the elevator it slid down the glass slowly, leaving a bloody track, and the helicopter was going down into a grey, churning sea taking his mother – Reno – Tseng – and he wasn't going to be able to run fast enough –

The battering of Rufus' heart as his consciousness dragged him from the clinging tendrils of the dream was echoed by the banging on the door, as Reno's voice called, "Rufus? You okay?"

"Yes!" He called, swiping a hand over his sweat-slick forehead. "I'll be up in a minute!"

He heard the tumblers in the lock moving, and Reno entered the room. The Turk flicked on the lights and Rufus saw that he was carrying a gun.

"What's wrong?" Rufus demanded, eyes adjusting slowly to the sudden light. He became aware that Reno was half dressed – barefoot and wearing only crumpled uniform pants and an unbuttoned shirt.

"Looks like nothing, yo!" Reno told him, with obvious relief. Rude appeared behind Reno, in full uniform, including the ever-present dark glasses. "Everything all right?" he asked. "I heard a noise."

Rufus blinked, confused. "Is it morning?" he asked.

"Three in the morning," Reno said. "That must've been some nightmare you were having, yeah?"

"Oh. I… yes. There was a – a helicopter…"

"Guess you've been through it kid," Reno said, flicking on the safety and putting the gun in his pocket. Rufus' eyes followed Reno's actions, taking in the Turk's lean lines, the hard-looking muscles of his chest and abdomen. Even semi-dressed and dishevelled by sleep, Reno seemed poised for a fight. Feeling childish and stupid for waking everyone with a nightmare, Rufus looked away and murmured, "Sorry."

"Hey, don't worry about it," Reno said. "Everyone gets bad dreams, man."

Rufus nodded, meeting Reno's gaze. There was something different about the Turk: it occurred to Rufus that he'd never seen Reno with his hair free from its usual ponytail. There seemed to be a surprising amount of it, falling in rather messy red loops and tangles over the Turk's narrow shoulders. Still not fully awake, Rufus found himself thinking of an abstract painting he'd seen at a gallery his mother had taken him to once – a tall, vertical canvass onto which the artist had literally thrown black, red and white paint. Reno grinned at Rufus' slightly dazed expression. "Get some sleep. _Better_ sleep. Dream about girls or something, yo!"

"Okay," Rufus replied, trying to look relaxed. "Thanks."

Reno and Rude left the room, Reno turning off the light as he went. Rufus lay still in the dark for a long while, replaying pictures in his head – half-remembered scenes from the nightmare mixed with other, differently disturbing images. Outside the window, the sky was beginning to lighten by the time he fell asleep.

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	18. Chapter 18

**Well - that wasn't much quicker was it? Sorry. **

**As always, thank you readers and reviewers - all views and comments are very much appreciated.**

* * *

In the gleaming kitchen, with its obviously expensive Corel marble counters and top-of-the-range Shinratech appliances, Reno was making coffee when Rufus walked in, escorted by an immaculately dressed Rude.

"Hiya Boss," Reno said cheerfully. "Sleep well? Good dreams?"

"Uh… n-no – no more dreams," Rufus replied too quickly, turning an interesting shade of pink. "And I'm not your boss," he added, walking to the window and pretending to be absorbed by the view of a dull green and grey landscape and steel fences, "So please stop calling me that."

"Whatever you want B – uh – Rufus," Reno said, refusing to let the boy's adolescent sulkiness spoil his good mood. "But – you will be, you know? So don't really see the harm –"

"Unless we catch Mallory Hyde I might not survive to be anything!" Rufus snapped. He turned back to face the room, and his complexion had almost returned to its usual pale hue. "What's the plan for today?"

Reno poured three mugs of coffee, grinning to himself, wondering what kinds of girls Rufus Shinra might dream about. Costa del Sol had been full of beautiful women, some of them making very obvious overtures to Rufus, but Rufus hadn't seemed especially interested in any of them. _Still_, Reno reflected, stirring three sugars into Rude's coffee, _the kid's only recently turned fifteen. And he's not big for his age. Maybe a bit of a late developer. Maybe just getting interested…"_

Rude took a seat at the glass-topped table in the centre of the room, and cradled the mug of coffee Reno handed him as he outlined the day's schedule. Rufus sat opposite Rude, nodding thanks to Reno as the Turk set down another coffee in front of him. Reno leaned against the counter, mug in hand, listening.

"First we drive to the airfield – speak to the instructors. Then check their records. Gale was using a fake ID – Tseng said it was one of the best he's ever seen – and going by the name Peter Winter. Then we head into Iselheim and check the inn – there's only the one – to see if their books have any clues – other guests staying at the same time as Gale – any link to the girlfriend or to Mallory Hyde. We stay together at all times when we're in the field – Veld's orders. When we're through we'll return here and speak to anyone on base who has connections with the airfield."

"Okay," Reno said, putting down his already empty mug. "But important stuff first – who wants toast?"

Rufus shook his head. "Coffee's fine."

"Ah c'mon!" Reno exclaimed in disbelief, "You gotta eat something, yo! It's cold out there, and it's a long time 'til lunch." He slotted six slices of bread into the heavy-duty toaster, raising his eyebrows as Rufus replied, "I never have much appetite in the mornings."

_Don't have much appetite period_, Reno thought. _That's your whole problem right there kid! If ever someone needed to learn how to relax and _enjoy_ himself…_

For once, however, Reno kept his opinions to himself.

Iselheim Airfield was a grassy tract of open land with a single runway, a weather-beaten corrugated iron hangar, and a small concrete control tower manned by one permanent member of staff and a rota of enthusiastic volunteers. Reno liked the atmosphere instantly: here were people united by a love of flying to match his own, unencumbered by company affiliations or politics. Today's volunteer, an elderly man with keen brown eyes and a hooked nose that gave him the appearance of an unusually intelligent chocobo, led the Turks and Rufus around the field, talking all the time. "Oh yes, I remember Winter," he said, frowning. "Funny chap – didn't really fit in down here. Very keen on his lessons – would arrive Friday night and pay for hours of tuition at a time – but seemed to have no interest in anything but helicopters. Odd – because he claimed to be a plane-spotter. Had the notebooks, but – this is the strange thing – do you know the Shinra Space Exploration Department has a base just a couple of miles from here?"

"Yes," Rude replied. "We're staying there."

"Really?" The man's sharp eyes gleamed. "You know Cid Highwind's based there?"

"Yeah," Reno cut in, with unfeigned enthusiasm. "I can't wait to meet him. He can fly just about anything, they say."

"That's it, that's it. He spends quite a bit of time here when he can. Has a passion for airships. Says he's going to build one, one of these days… Anyway, Cid flew one of the new transport planes into the Shinra base last month –"

"The Gelnika Mark Two?" Reno asked. "I've read about them. I'd love to see one. The Mark Two's the four-engine model, isn't it?"

"Yes," the volunteer smiled. "You see – that was the odd thing. You're a pilot, yes?"

"Yeah. I fly helicopters."

"And you're interested. You know your stuff. But Winter – he came with us to watch the Gelnika fly in, but he didn't _care_ about it, you see. Wrote it in his book, and asked the man next to him how to spell it! Damned odd!"

"Who was his instructor?" Reno asked, although he already had the information from Tseng.

"Cosmo Compton. He thought Winter was odd, too – and coming from Cosmo, that's saying something. We call him Cosmo because of his fireseed habit – spent too long in Cosmo Canyon as a young man. But he's a damned fine pilot. He lives in Iselheim – I can give you his address."

"Thanks – that would be useful."

The volunteer scratched his head and asked, "Winter – is he okay?"

"I'm afraid not. He died recently, in an accident. We're attempting to trace any remaining friends and family," Reno lied easily, sticking to Veld's brief. "Someone said he had a girlfriend?"

"I never saw him with a girl. Always came alone. How did he die? Was it a helicopter accident? Cosmo said he was a pretty quick learner."

"No – it was a car wreck."

"Oh. Well – I'm sorry. Funny chap, but still… shame."

As Reno chatted to the volunteer, Rufus walked behind with Rude, more interested than he would have expected to be. Since his journey to Costa del Sol Rufus had decided that he liked flying, and he watched attentively as the aircraft enthusiast showed Reno the helicopter Winter had trained in. Rufus wondered at Reno's ability to get on with people. Remembering how much hard work it had been to keep up the charm during that interminable dinner in Costa, Rufus was surprised by how easy Reno seemed to find it. Quietly he asked Rude, "Is Reno always this talkative?"

"Never stops," the big Turk said. "Unless he's flying."

"Don't you find that hard to cope with?" Rufus asked.

Rude shook his head. "Used to, at the start," he replied. "Reno… kind of … grows on you, you know?"

"Hm," said Rufus, looking out over the airfield. Rude waited for him to make some other comment, but none came.

By mid-morning the Turks and Rufus had finished their enquiries at the airfield and moved on to Iselheim village, which was little more than two converging streets. Public buildings consisted of the solitary inn Rude had mentioned, a small general store and a tiny school. The arrival of the Shin-Ra truck they'd borrowed from the base caused quite a stir in the village – if the curious gazes of three children, an old man and a lugubrious, heavy-eyed dog counted as a stir.

The girl behind the desk at the inn was pretty in a pale, languid fashion. When Rude opened the door she was leaning on the desktop chewing a fingernail, her waist-length blonde hair spilling over the open register. As Rude entered, she sat up straighter and flipped her hair back. Noticing Reno behind him, she smiled in a way that suggested the red-haired Turk was the most interesting sight she'd seen all year. "Welcome to Iselheim," she said to Reno. "Can I help you?"

Rufus had to control the urge to roll his eyes. The girl might as well have added a _please_ to the end of her question. Shame for Reno that Veld's orders stated that they had to stay together, or the Turk would most likely be halfway up the stairs with her by now, Rufus thought.

Rude showed the girl his Shin-Ra ID and told her that he needed to ask a few questions. Surprisingly, she seemed unfazed, only turning her slow gaze on Rude for a moment and saying, "I suppose you've come from the base?" Her eyes slid back to Reno. Rufus had never felt invisible before. He wasn't sure whether or not he minded.

"Can we look at your register, please?" Rude asked.

"You can look at whatever you want," she told Reno, handing the register to Rude without taking her eyes off his partner. But Reno only flashed her a quick smile and turned to Rude who was leafing through the register to check it against the list of the dates of Ben Gale's flight training.

"Here we are," Rude said quickly, pointing to an entry two weeks old. Reno looked at the name Rude was indicating. Peter Winter.

"Good. While you're checking the rest of the dates, why don't I take our - _new recruit_ here to see Cosmo?"

"Boss told us to stay together."

"Yeah – but – Cosmo's place is, like, five doors along. Within shouting distance."

Rude considered. "Yes, all right," he said at last. "But be quick."

"Yes," echoed the girl, virtually pouring herself over the desk, "Hurry back!"

Reno ignored her, and she pouted at his back as he left the inn with Rufus following.

Out in the street, Rufus said, "She likes you!"

"What, that skinny kid? She's most likely bored out of her skull, living in this backwater. Shiva, wouldn't it drive you crazy?"

"I suppose it would." Rufus was silent for a moment, then said quietly, "Reno, I wanted to ask – did the name Gale mean anything to you before the attack?"

Reno stopped dead and gave Rufus a sharp look. "No. Why?" The boy seemed uncertain, tense. Reno remembered his odd response in the meeting when Veld had first mentioned Ben Gale's name.

"Oh… it doesn't matter."

Reno shook his head. "Uh uh. You've heard the name before, right?"

"I… I'm not sure whether…"

"What? If it might be relevant to the investigation, you need to tell us."

"_You_."

"What?"

Rufus looked at Reno, his expression serious and oddly intense. "I'll tell _you_. Because you tell me the truth about things. Because you warned me about Lazard being in that meeting. But – I don't want the others to know. You have to promise."

"Rufus – I can't do that." _Damn_, thought Reno, _I knew I'd regret letting the kid know about Lazard. This could be tricky…_

"I can't tell you unless you promise."

"And I can't promise in case you tell me something Veld needs to know."

"You don't only answer to Veld!" Rufus said in an imperious tone that instantly made Reno's hackles rise. There was a cold glitter in the Turk's green eyes, and almost a snarl in his voice, as he shot back, "No, kid. I answer to your old man. Not to you."

"Not _yet_," replied Rufus with a toss of his blond head. "But as _you_ pointed out this morning, you will one day."

"Yeah – well – _when_ you're the boss, maybe I'll take this kinda crap from you," Reno stated, his voice hard. "_Maybe_. So either tell me what you know about Gale, or don't, but I ain't promising shit. Right?"

Rufus stared at Reno, wondering what to do. It was the second time the Turk's explosive temper had been directed at him; he hadn't reprimanded him in Costa del Sol – had that been a mistake? But if he spoke up now, Reno would surely despise him – see him as a spoiled child acting out his father's role. _You're just a Turk,_ Rufus thought. _You're not supposed to talk to me like that! All the others understand that – why don't you? _

_ But none of the others would have warned me about Lazard…_

Reno's anger evaporated as he saw the confusion on Rufus Shinra's face. The boy seemed so sure of himself normally that it was easy to forget he was only fifteen – about the age of that girl at the inn, practicing her flirting, playing at being an adult. But some children had to grow up faster than others.

"Look, Rufus," he said in a calmer tone, "I'm only telling you the way things are, yo. I can't make a promise like that. You just have to decide whether you can trust me to do what needs doing with the information, or not."

Rufus hesitated. At last he said, "All right, I'll tell you. It – it's about my mother. Three years ago, my father told me she'd had an – a relationship – with a SOLDIER called Lee Gale." Rufus' cheeks were stained red now, and he looked away from Reno. "I wondered…"

"Whether Lee and Ben were related?" Reno whistled. "This Lee Gale – is he still alive?"

"No. He died in Wutai."

"When?"

"I'm not sure. My father didn't say. Before my mother died, I think."

_Convenient_, thought Reno. _And Veld knows – I'd bet my life that's why there was that weird atmosphere when he mentioned Ben Gale's name. So Tseng? And Dana, and Lex? I wonder… _

Aloud he said, "It could be important. We'll check it out when we get back to Midgar, yeah? You and me. If there is a connection, we'll tell Veld, okay? But _just_ Veld."

"And you won't tell anyone else until then?" Rufus asked. "It's just… She wasn't like that. I think, she must have been so unhappy…"

"I won't tell anyone else until then."

Reno's mind was suddenly full of a memory he had done all in his power to forget: Lauder's vicious words about his mom – how she'd sold herself to Flood to keep a roof over their heads – his own furious denial. The shame he felt that he still wasn't completely certain that Lauder had been lying.

_Kid only wants to protect his mom – her memory,_ Reno thought. _I get that. He figures Veld can't know, or he'd've told us about Lee and Ben and a possible connection. So why _didn't_ Veld say anything? Was Lee Gale a hit? Something's not right here. Not right at all._

Rufus nodded tightly, and Reno saw how hard it must have been for him to mention his mother's affair.

"So," the Turk said briskly, gesturing to a low thatched cottage two doors further along the street, "Shall we see if this Compton guy's in?"

Grateful for the change of subject, Rufus nodded, and followed Reno along the muddy road.

When Reno and Rufus arrived back at the inn half an hour later, the pale girl had been replaced by a burly tow-haired man, who was deep in discussion with Rude. Reno joined Rude at the reception desk and told him, "Cosmo checked out. Said much the same as the volunteer at the airfield. No new info. You?"

"Yeah," said Rude, gesturing to the innkeeper. "The girl from before – thought she looked familiar. She has a sister – the girl Winter claimed was his girlfriend. This is their father."

"Claimed?" Reno queried.

"Yes. Took her out to dinner three times. May have seen her on other occasions – but it didn't come to anything."

"Have you spoken to her?"

The innkeeper gave Reno a steady look. "She's not here. She's gone to college in Junon. I can give you a phone number. But there was nothing serious between her and this Winter guy. She has a boyfriend now. I'd rather you left her alone."

"Can I speak to her little sister then?" Reno asked, earning a suspicious frown.

"What for? You do realise that Merle is only fourteen? I don't want her frightened."

"Don't worry," Reno told him. "Just – sisters tell each other stuff, yeah? I only want to ask her if she knows anything about Peter Winter."

"All right, I'll fetch her. But I'm staying with her."

"Of course," replied Rude.

The Turks and Rufus watched in silence as the innkeeper climbed the stairs. When they were sure he was out of earshot, Rude said, "There's something else. On almost every occasion that 'Peter Winter' stayed here, there's a Brent Snow registered at about the same time. There're always one or two nights overlapping between his stays and Gale's."

"And Compton did tell us one useful thing," Reno murmured. "Said he'd never seen Winter with a girl, but twice at night he saw him in the village talking to a youngish man who wasn't a local. Description was vague – but not far off Payton's version of Mallory Hyde: slim, dark-hair, glasses."

The innkeeper's daughter – Merle - followed her father down the stairs, her long hair tied neatly in a ponytail, her eyes lowered demurely. Rufus hardly recognised her as the shameless flirt who had greeted them earlier – she looked about three years younger – more like Reno's description of her as a skinny kid. _Which is probably how he sees me, too_, Rufus found himself thinking.

Rude gestured to one of the circular wooden tables in the bar area, and Merle took a seat next to her father. Rude sat opposite the girl, and Reno next to her. Rufus pulled out a chair at a neighbouring table, and sat watching the proceedings silently.

"What's your sister's name, Merle?" Rude asked. Merle looked at him. She seemed nervous but Rufus couldn't tell whether the feeling was genuine or assumed.

"Tori," the girl replied.

Rude took a photograph from the inside pocket of his jacket – the picture Ben Gale had tacked to his desk in the Shin-Ra building. "Is this Tori?"

"Yes. Where did you get that?"

"Mr. Winter showed it to his friends. He told everyone that Tori was his girlfriend."

"She wasn't." Merle looked at Reno quickly. "He was good-looking, but she said he was weird. They had dinner together sometimes – the first time he was here, and a couple of other times. She told me he talked about politics." Wrinkling her nose, Merle added, "Boring!"

"What kind of politics?"

"Don't know. She said he went on about it all the time though. Saving the planet or something. The last time they had dinner they went for a walk afterwards, but she said that creepy guy was hanging around too, and after that she didn't see Peter Winter any more – kept out of his way. The next time he booked in, she went over the mountains to stay with her friend Gabby in Nibelheim, and then she started dating her brother, Marc. He's nice. He's in a band, and he goes over to Junon to see her all the time. He has this friend called Ethan -"

"This creepy guy?" Reno asked quickly. "Who was he?"

"Some creep called Brent Snow."

"What was creepy about him?"

Merle shrugged. "Dunno. He was creepy, that's all."

"Not good-looking?"

"A bit, I guess. Not like –" Glancing from Reno to her father, she shrugged again and finished, "Not really."

Reno sighed - with a little too much exaggeration Rufus thought – and said, "It would be really useful if we could get a description of him. If he was Winter's friend, he ought to be told about the accident."

Merle looked at Reno, and some of her former flirtatiousness resurfaced in spite of her father's solemn presence. "He was shorter than you, with glasses. His hair was boring brown, and quite straight. He looked kinda geeky. Not cool, like – _some_ people."

"Right." Reno smiled at her. "Any idea where Winter got this photo?"

Merle nodded eagerly. "Yes. _I_ took it. After the first dinner – when Tori thought she quite liked Peter. He asked her for a picture to take home with him, and she didn't have a good one, so I took some. Loads, actually, because she wasn't happy with most of them. Thinking about it – I know… wait!" Suddenly animated, Merle jumped to her feet and ran lightly back up the stairs, her ponytail swinging behind her. When she'd gone, her father frowned. "What's all this really about?" he asked. "_Shin-Ra Turks_ tracking down friends and family of someone who died in a car accident?"

Rude pushed his dark glasses further up the bridge of his nose and said in a low voice, "You're right. Don't tell anyone else, but – Peter Winter was quite high up in the company. Naturally we have to investigate any death of that nature, just in case."

The innkeeper nodded seriously, clearly flattered at having been entrusted with the truth. "I see," he said. "You can rely on my discretion, of course."

"Thank you," replied Rude, with grave courtesy.

Merle clattered down the echoing wooden staircase, and took her seat breathlessly, placing a pile of photographs on the table with a triumphant flourish. "Here you are!" she said. "I got them printed at the store the same day I took them, so Tori could give some to Peter. _Our_ ancient printer is useless," she added, with a reproachful look at her father.

Sifting quickly through the pictures, Merle passed some of them to Reno, anxious for his approval. "Look – this is Tori with Peter Winter – and this is Winter on his own out in the street – and if you look behind Peter's right shoulder in _this_ one…"

Reno suddenly went still.

"Yes!" exclaimed Merle, delighted with herself. "_That's_ creepy Snow!"

"_Clever girl_," Reno said. "This is really useful. Can I take it?"

Rude had already gathered up the rest of the images and was studying each one carefully, but Merle said, "That's the only one he's in. He didn't like cameras. He didn't realise I was taking that one." She turned her attention back to Reno. "You can have it," she told him. "With all my –" Remembering that her father was right next to her, Merle changed what she was going to say into, "Best wishes".

Rude turned to the innkeeper. "If Brent Snow does reappear, get in touch with me at once, please. Here's my card."

"Of course," the man replied, with a new-found air of self-importance.

Reno gave Merle a brilliant smile and said, "Thanks, sweetheart. You've been a big help."

Merle turned such a deep shade of crimson that Rufus almost laughed aloud.

As they were leaving the inn, Reno caught his eye and winked. Much to his own surprise, Rufus found he had to turn away quickly, to hide the fact that _his_ face suddenly felt as hot as Merle's had looked.

x-x-x

The truck bounced along the unmade track leading from Iselheim to the research station, Reno, at the wheel, taking far too little notice of potholes and ruts for the good of Rude's stomach or the vehicle's suspension. Rufus was enjoying the ride: he was used to the smooth glide of limousines, which seemed depressingly safe and boring in comparison to this haphazard motion.

Seated between Reno and Rude, Rufus felt more like a genuine Turk than ever. Deciding to take some initiative, as Veld would doubtless want him to do, he asked Rude for the photograph and attempted to study the face of the man who had twice tried to kill him. The image was not sharply focussed, and Snow – or Hyde – or whatever the man's real name was – had his head turned to one side, partly in shadow. But there was enough detail to make out a sharp, fine-featured face – younger-looking than Rufus had expected – rather thin lips, a narrow nose, dark eyes behind rectangular glasses. Perhaps it was just those glasses, but something about him reminded Rufus of Hojo.

"You really think this is Mallory Hyde?" Rufus asked.

"Yes," said Rude. "Fits with Simon Payton's description.

"Not Alice Mortimer's though," Rufus pointed out, remembering reading a synopsis of her file that Veld had sent him. "Didn't she say he was sandy-haired, with freckles?"

Reno gave a disparaging snort. "That was a description of her first boyfriend. Took, like, two minutes to find pictures of him on her phone. No – Payton's description was the real one. Kit said he held out a while, even after he realised Hyde had betrayed them, but in the end... And we have DNA – Hyde was fucking Payton."

Startled, Rufus looked up at Reno. Rude misinterpreted the boy's shocked expression and turned to scowl at Reno, who took both hands off the steering wheel in a gesture of disbelief. "What? The kid's fifteen, not five! You've heard the word fuck before, right Rufus?" He turned sideways to look at Rufus, seemingly oblivious to the truck's leftwards drift.

"Yes," Rufus replied, aiming for an urbane, amused tone, and just about succeeding. "Mostly from you. Carry on, Reno – talking, and – ah – driving?"

Reno nodded, with an 'I-told-you-so' glance at his partner, and – finally – put his hands back on the wheel. "And now," he continued, " We have a photo, too. This guy ever comes to Midgar and goes through a security scan – we've got him."

Rufus caught a breath, and searched for something sensible to say. _Anything_ that wouldn't make him appear unduly interested in Reno's revelation about Hyde and Payton. Remembering something he'd thought of at the inn, he managed, "There are the names to consider, too. Snow and Winter. Can't be a coincidence."

Reno smiled. "Yeah – you got that right. He's letting us know that he knows what we did in Icicle."

"One thing I wondered about that," Rufus said, sounding uncharacteristically hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"Alice - uh, I mean, _Mortimer_, and Payton. Did they really die in that avalanche, or -?"

"No," Reno told him. "They were already dead."

"Good," said Rufus quietly. "I mean – I know they deserved it, and everything, - but, Gaia - being buried alive…"

"Yeah." Reno didn't say anything else, but he remembered Kit's report in the confidential files: Simon Payton's last request had been that they would make it quick – not for himself, but for Alice. Not that Turks were in the habit of granting last requests, but they weren't in the habit of causing unnecessary suffering either. Alice had died of a cleanly broken neck, which must have been about as quick a death as was possible in the circumstances. Simon had apparently suffocated in the snow: Reno knew Kit well enough to be certain that Payton would have been unconscious pretty much instantly before being smothered. Sleepel was a powerful spell when cast on a defenceless target and left no definite forensic trace: mako in the blood could have come from anywhere.

Rude glanced at his watch. "That went better than I'd hoped. If we get through asking questions back at the base, we'll be set to return to Midgar tomorrow. Veld needs that picture as soon as possible."

"Can't you send it to him on your PHS?" Rufus queried, then, without pausing, realized, "Oh – no. Of course you can't. If Hyde is hacking the system…"

"It's back to paper and pens," Reno told him. "Like one of those old-style detective shows from the Seventies. Hyde can't be allowed to find out that we know what he looks like. He'll assume we've worked out that he's Snow: he wanted us to know that, after all. But the photo's an unexpected advantage."

"Let's hope it give us an edge," Rude observed. "Now we know Hyde was behind this attack too, we need to catch him fast before he thinks up another plan. I'm afraid this is only the beginning."

x-x-x

As Reno brought the truck to a stop at the security checkpoint at the gates of the research station, Rufus' attention was caught by two guards inside the steel fences who were patrolling the perimeter accompanied by huge, tentacled dog-like creatures whose sleek coats gleamed blue-black in the noon sunlight.

"Are they using monsters – as guard dogs?" Rufus asked, incredulously. Rude nodded. "Yes. Hojo adapts them, in the labs. They're designed to be able to use barrier magic to protect the person who trains them."

"Are they hard to train?"

"I don't know. But I don't think I'd like to find out. They bite – and the tentacles sting."

"Why the interest, kid?" Reno wondered, as the security guard at the checkpoint handed back his ID and raised the barrier. "Thinking of getting one as a pet?" It was meant as a joke, but Rufus' eyes were on the lean silhouettes of the hounds, and he didn't smile.

"I've never had a pet," Rufus replied thoughtfully, turning to watch the creatures as the truck drove into the base.

"Take my advice – don't!" Rude said. "Nothing but trouble."

"You used to have pets?" Reno asked, intrigued. It was rare for his quiet partner to divulge anything about his past.

"Yeah," replied Rude. "Cats, a dog, mice – and a miniature chocobo. Only a foot high – but that was the worst of the lot. Fifty percent beak – the other fifty, claw."

Reno laughed. "Never thought of you with pets!"

"Well – they weren't mine exactly. They all belonged to –" Rude's expression went suddenly blank. "They were family pets," he finished. Reno glanced at him, then away. One thing you learned quickly in the Turks: if people wanted to talk about the past, you listened, but you didn't push – didn't ask uninvited questions.

"I never had pets," Reno told Rufus, automatically turning the boy's attention away from Rude. "But if I were you, I'd start small. Maybe, like, I don't know – a hamster, or something? Has to be easier than a guard hound!"

"Can you see me with a _hamster_?" Rufus asked, hoping rather desperately that Reno wouldn't say yes.

"Hm. Not really, no. I suppose a guard hound would be kinda _presidential_. And useful extra security. You should ask Hojo about it when we get back."

"Reno…" warned Rude.

Reno shrugged. "Might not be very practical, living in the Shin-Ra building an' all, but – no harm in asking, right?"

"Right," agreed Rufus.

Rude only shook his head, wondering what in Gaia his partner had set in motion _this_ time.

x-x-x

The afternoon was spent interviewing three scientists and five members of security – all the people on the base who had ever visited Iselheim Airfield in any capacity - but it soon became clear that none of them had any information about either Ben Gale or Malory Hyde. The most interesting interview, according to Reno, as they sat in the lounge drinking coffee while the sky outside slowly darkened, had been with a junior rocket scientist called Shera Lyle, who had spent a lot of time at the airfield in the company of her _friend_, Cid Highwind.

"Pretty, is she?" Rude asked.

"Pretty hot, for a scientist," Reno agreed, "Yeah – definitely. According to her file she's twenty-seven… But, sure doesn't look it, yo."

"And did she have any useful information about Gale or Hyde?"

"No – of course not." Reno waved a hand, as though the question was completely irrelevant. "But – lots of useful information about Highwind. He's been out in the hangar all day, working on some prototype for a little turboprop plane he's designed, but he'll be here later so we'll get to meet him! Shera says she and Cid are just good friends, but she lights up like a firework when she says his name, so…"

Rude's eyebrows lifted above his sunglasses. "Can't read too much into that. _You_ light up like a firework when you say his name…"

"Oh come on – I do _not_!" Reno looked at Rufus for support, but the boy only sipped his black coffee and nodded. "You do, actually. Hero of yours, is he?"

Reno shrugged, unfazed. "I guess so – yeah. He's kinda – an aviation legend, you know? Not sure if he's ever flown a chopper though. I'll have to find out…"

Rude pretended to study the papers containing the transcripts of the afternoon's interviews. "I'll add it to the list of questions for when I interview him, then."

Reno's face fell so obviously that Rufus nearly choked on his coffee. He set down the cup on the coffee table and leaned back in his armchair, watching as Rude looked up at Reno. "Oh – or – did _you_ want to do it? Only – you did five out of eight interviews this afternoon – and I don't want to over-burden you or anything…"

"Hey – when did I ever complain about a little extra work?" asked Reno. "No – don't answer that. But – I _can_ do this one, right?"

"Yes, Reno."

"Thanks, partner!"

Rude gave one of his almost-smiles in acknowledgement, and Rufus, watching, found himself smiling too, vicariously enjoying their easy camaraderie, not quite a part of it, but closer than he'd ever been before. Then the consciousness of what he was feeling intruded, like the bulletproof glass screen that separated him from the driver in one of his father's damned limousines. The illusion of being cut off was so strong that for a second Rufus found his hand moving towards them involuntarily. Embarrassed, he pushed his hair back from his eyes, as though that had been his intention all along. Reno and Rude were paying him no attention in any case, Reno talking excitedly about what questions he would ask Cid Highwind, and Rude calmly ordering the transcripts. Watching them, Rufus suddenly felt like a spy.

A spy - but no longer a Turk.

x-x-x

It was after dinner – an unexpectedly extravagant affair, eaten in the 'canteen', whose oak panelling and polished hardwood dining tables were another testament to Palmer's reckless frittering of the S.E.D's budget – that Cid Highwind finally made an appearance.

The Turks and Rufus were back in the lounge where they had been joined by Dr. Crowther and Shera Lyle, both anxious to talk to Rufus about the space programme. Reno made more coffee: if Shin-Ra was going to allow Palmer to buy coffee of this quality for his department, Reno sure as hell wasn't going to let it go to waste. And he was going to have a word with Veld when they got back, too. Good coffee wasn't an extravagance in Reno's opinion. "We need some of this shit back at HQ," he told Rude, handing round the mugs. "This is seriously good. How Shin-Ra can expect the D.A.R. to function properly on that stuff from the machine…" He shook his head sorrowfully. "Like – they wouldn't expect the choppers to fly on low-grade Makozene…"

"Hm," Rude agreed. "I think Veld sees it as kind of like endurance training. Character building, you know?"

"Yeah. He figures, we can deal with drinking that crap, we can deal with anything…"

Dr. Crowther sat on the couch opposite Rufus, and got to the point immediately. "You asked me how sending a man into space would benefit Shin-Ra. I'd like to discuss that with you, if I may?"

Rufus turned his attention away from the two Turks and regarded Crowther, his gaze cool and appraising. "All right," he said, underlining his assent with a graceful nod and a distant smile. Shera, watching him from her seat beside Crowther, thought, "He knows he was born to rule the world. How can fate allow the future of a man as… vibrant… as _alive_… as Cid to be placed in the hands of a tyrannical child like this? What if he doesn't understand how important this is? Cid's dream… I have to try to make him see."

"It's not just about getting into space," Crowther was saying, "Although many people would see that as a worthy end in itself."

"Why's that?" Rufus asked. "That's the part I don't understand."

Everyone was looking at him now, seemingly anxious to provide answers. "It's… a goal," Rude said. "No one's ever done it before."

"It's a _dream_," Shera explained fervently. "Something that sounds impossible, but might just be attainable – a triumph of human imagination over the insentient forces of the universe…"

"It's a symbol," Dr. Crowther added, watching Rufus' expression carefully, trying to work out what his motivations might be. "It will demonstrate to the world that Shin-Ra can achieve anything."

"Ah, c'mon Rufus! It's, like, the ultimate adventure, yo!" chimed in Reno, almost spilling his coffee as he waved the mug for emphasis.

"That's what it is!" added a fifth voice. "Red's right on the money. The ultimate adventure."

"Cid!" exclaimed Shera, starting to get to her feet, then sitting down again, blushing.

Everybody turned to look at the famous pilot, leaving Rufus with the bitterness of having thought, "_Red's_ right on the money, is he? But the whole point is that my father is the one controlling the money. _I'm_ the one who will be _on the money_. And all this talk of dreams and adventures is fine – except - I don't see anyone else here ever being in a position to pay for any of it." Rufus knew exactly what Reno would think of that sentiment – and he half despised himself for thinking it – but it couldn't be un-thought.

Reno was already talking to Cid, pausing only to accept the older pilot's offer of a cigarette and a light. The Turk was as animated as Rufus had ever seen him. His green eyes were sparkling with an electric light, and he appeared entirely focussed on every word Cid spoke.

Rufus studied Cid. The pilot was old – probably close to thirty – but he was fit and toned, with an athlete's body underneath that oil-stained t-shirt and casual jacket. His features were rugged beneath spiky, cropped blond hair, and he boasted impressive stubble. For the second time that day Rufus found himself feeling horribly childish. Why couldn't he grow faster – look more like a man? Even when he did grow, he'd probably be a slender, fine-featured sort of man like Lazard, not a strong, well-built figure like Cid, or a lithe, hard-muscled fighter like Reno. And a million miles from Rude, whose biceps were as thick as Rufus' thighs, and yet who could still move with astonishing lightness and speed when necessary.

Shera had got to her feet quietly and was busy making Cid a mug of tea. Rufus saw her gazing at the pilot from her position by the mahogany sideboard where she was pouring boiling water into a mug bearing the Shin-Ra logo from an odd-looking antique-style mako-run kettle. She caught herself, murmuring a soft curse as the water nearly overflowed the mug, and then looked back at Cid, frank adoration in her brown eyes. Rude had returned to his armchair and was typing reports into his laptop. Dr. Crowther turned back to Rufus. "So," he said, "that's Cid. He'll fly the rocket on the actual mission. But there's more to a successful space programme than dreams and adventure. Without Shin-Ra's backing, we're nothing."

Rufus looked at Crowther, and thought about what the president of Shin-Ra would reply. "You have my attention," he said.

After a few minutes, Rufus realised that he'd been lying: Crowther had fifty percent of his attention at best. The scientist talked earnestly about projected figures, cost benefits, the possibility of eventually being able to extract minerals from the moon, advances in technology that could only be advantageous to the company. Once she had handed Cid his tea with a shy smile, Shera joined Crowther, agreeing with all he said, and adding a few sensible, well-considered points. It was clear that the space programme could probably be made profitable – if it was run properly. But with Palmer in charge, Rufus doubted that would happen, and Palmer was one of his father's oldest friends - a remnant of the original Shin-Ra Inc. back in the days when the company had been a minor arms manufacturer.

Rufus listened, but found his gaze constantly drawn to the far side of the room where Reno stood talking to Cid. The pair of them seemed to have formed an instant bond. Rufus saw Cid saying something, one hand raised to touch his goggles, and Reno laughed, mirroring the gesture with a little shrug. Cid caught Rufus' eye, and gave the boy a swift, appraising glance that Rufus didn't like at all. The pilot's expression was open and more amused than anything else, but Rufus looked away, unaccountably angry.

Crowther gave a succinct summary of his case, and waited expectantly. Rufus had already decided that if, on reflection, he did think it was worthwhile to continue funding the space programme once he became president, he would fire Palmer and put Crowther in charge of a radically pared-down department.

"Your arguments are compelling," Rufus told Crowther. "You've given me a lot to think about."

Crowther searched Rufus' face for clues as to exactly what that meant, but the boy's expression was unreadable.

"Well – thank you for your time," the scientist offered, holding out his hand. Rufus shook it, with a smile that was not echoed by the cool look in his eyes. "You're welcome," he said, his tone suggesting that the phrase was merely for form's sake.

Crowther left the room feeling unsettled, anxious about the future. _Gaia,_ he thought, _I hope to all the gods Julius Shinra lives a long and healthy life!_

Reno had apparently finished interviewing Cid, if that was what he'd been doing, although Rufus thought it had looked more like a friendly chat. Cid went to the sideboard and got out a couple of packs of playing cards. Reno glanced over at Rufus and asked, "You want in? We're playing poker."

_Oh, are we?_ thought Rufus, unable to help his childish feelings, even as he acknowledged that they _were_ childish. _You and your new best buddy Cid?_

Aloud he only said, "No thanks. I've got some work to do. That conversation with Crowther was - illuminating." Trying to give the impression that mere card games were beneath him, when the truth was that he had only a vague idea of the rules and couldn't bear the idea of looking stupid in front of the obviously wonderful Cid Highwind, Rufus waved his hand and added, "You – carry on."

Normally such imperious behaviour would have drawn at least a flash of irritation from Reno, but the Turk only nodded and turned to Rude. "You in, partner?"

"Yeah," replied Rude, closing his laptop. "I've finished this. I'm in."

"Shera?" Cid asked.

"Yes, I'll play." Rufus could tell that Shera was trying to sound relaxed, but there was a pink flush along her cheekbones, and her eyes were very bright.

Rufus took his own laptop to an armchair in the corner of the room, opened it, created a new file, and sat staring at it for a few moments. He wanted to browse the WN, but Rude had ordered Reno to disable all external connections until Veld sent word that the system was secure. Sighing, Rufus opened the chess programme, hoping to give the impression that he was working on something very important. He glanced up at the four card players, their faces illuminated by the soft light of the hideous ormolu lamp on the coffee table. Rude was looking at his cards, a little frown of concentration half hidden behind his glasses; Shera held her cards loosely, careless of everything but Cid sitting opposite her; Cid was relaxed, elbows on his splayed knees, cards in one hand. Next to him was Reno, leaning back on the couch, one foot on the edge of the low coffee table, cigarette and cards both in his left hand. Reno's eyes narrowed slightly as he considered the cards, and for a moment Rufus saw him as his enemies would: sharp, cool, dangerous – a lethal Shin-Ra Turk.

Suddenly Rufus became aware that Cid was giving him a curious glance, and he lowered his eyes quickly, forcing his attention back to the chess match on his computer. He lost three games in a row, before shutting down the computer in frustration.

"I'm going to bed," he announced, knowing perfectly well that it was Reno's turn on guard duty. But Rude set down his cards and got to his feet. "I'll do the first shift," he told Reno. "You're on a winning streak. Come and take over when you're done."

"Thanks," Reno replied, smiling. "I owe you one, Rude."

Rufus headed for the door without a word, Rude following. Reno didn't even look up from his cards.

_Now Rude's let him off the_ inconvenience _of guard duty, he doesn't give a damn about me, does he?_ Rufus thought. _Why should he? I'm not his friend; I'm just his job._

"Night, kid," called Reno, with a casual wave of the two fingers holding his cigarette.

Rufus stopped. He looked back at Reno, and nodded slightly, keeping his expression neutral, then walked through the door Rude held open for him, his heart suddenly beating faster. _It shouldn't matter,_ he told himself. _He's just a Turk. Why does it matter? What does it mean? _

But Rufus knew what it meant – had known for some time. Perhaps, if he was honest with himself, he'd always known. _Sacha knew, and I pushed him away,_ he thought. _I called him a coward, but I was lying to myself. I was the one who was afraid. _

Lying in bed – the only place he was ever truly alone for more than a few minutes – Rufus thought about Sacha Domino. "He was so like me," Rufus thought, "And Reno is so different. Sacha understood about music. I think he meant it when he said he loved me. I wonder what he's doing now? If he's with anyone?

"And Reno? Reno doesn't have a clue how I feel – and that's just as well given that he's obviously only interested in girls. I can't let him know – I couldn't bear it if he found out and he despised me for it. I have to find someone else like me – but how? The Turks are always with me. They'd be happy enough to take me to a club or something if I asked them – as long as I was dancing with girls – kissing girls. But what would they do if it was with boys? They'd tell Veld, of course, and he'd tell my father – and then what? I wouldn't care if he was angry – but what if he was so disgusted that he changed his mind about me becoming vice president? He might give it all to Lazard!"

No, Rufus decided, that must never happen. He would just have to pretend to be like Reno – start taking an interest in girls. Perhaps, if he made more of an effort, he might find he liked them after all?

It was pathetic really, when Rufus thought about it, how ridiculously few times in his life he'd had any remotely sexual contact with anyone. A couple of girls had kissed him at his two proper birthday parties – cool little kisses on the cheek that had meant nothing. He was sure some of the boys at school got up to things, judging by the rumours, the innuendoes – sometimes with each other, sometimes with girls back home in the holidays. Freddy had talked about a leggy blonde called Arabella he'd met on some hunting trip with his parents… But none of them had ever tried anything with _him._ They'd probably been ordered not to.

Then, during those two days in Costa, before Alice Mortimer and the foiled assassination attempt, there had been two evenings of dancing at a club and a beach party. On those two nights there had been girls everywhere – girls Rufus could tell were objectively beautiful – catching at his hands, pressing themselves against him, kissing him. And he'd kissed back experimentally, touched the curve of a breast only half covered by a skimpy dress, run his hand along the soft length of a silky thigh… and felt nothing but the mildest curiosity.

Nothing about those experiences had come near to the wrenching shock of Sacha's kiss, which had left his heart pounding and had made him panic because he'd known, really, even then, what it meant.

And on the first night in Costa, across the smoky, crowded club, Rufus had caught sight of Reno, off duty, dancing with a very pretty, dark-haired girl who looked about nineteen or twenty. Reno's hand was resting lightly on the small of her back, and they were close, bodies touching, moving together in a way that had made Rufus suddenly breathless. Reno had said something and the girl had laughed, and Reno had leaned in and kissed her. Her arms had slid around his neck, drawing him closer; the kiss had gone on and on, and Rufus, watching, had realised, with a vertiginous sensation that left him feeling faintly nauseous, that he wasn't jealous of Reno for having this beautiful woman in his arms – he was jealous of her for having _him_.

Afterwards he'd told himself that he'd been drunk – that the unfamiliar heat and noise in the club had confused him. But he knew he was lying to himself. Sacha. Reno. They made him feel the way girls were supposed to make him feel. Why? He didn't want to be this way – the boys at school had constantly made crude jokes about it and teased Sacha mercilessly because, while he never admitted to it, he would never deny being gay either. Rufus didn't want people to treat him like that.

Rufus remembered his own treatment of Sacha with a burning sense of shame, but it only made him more determined never to let anyone find out the truth. He imagined a scene in which he found enough Sacha-style courage to made a confession to Reno – "Reno, I…" What? Not _love_, surely. "Reno, I _want_ you…" Gaia – no! The thought of it made Rufus cringe with embarrassment. Even alone, in the dark, he felt his face go hot. And how would Reno reply? With revulsion? With anger? Probably nothing so strong. Most likely he'd laugh. "Sorry, kid, not my thing, yo! And even if it was – you're just a skinny kid, you know? Shouldn't be thinking about things like that at your age. Wait a couple years – you'll most likely start fancying girls like a normal guy, yeah?"

No. It was too horrific to contemplate. No one could ever know, least of all Reno.

_I'm good at hiding things,_ Rufus thought. _I could be a Turk – Reno virtually said so. I can make them believe anything I want: this should be easy enough. All I have to do is act like Reno – look at girls –chat up girls – make jokes about girls. How hard can it be?_

Mind made up, Rufus eventually drifted into sleep. Whether his subconscious succeeded in making his dreams cooperate with his new resolution to like girls, only Rufus knew. At least his dreams were somewhere free from Turk surveillance.

x-x-x

When Reno knocked on Rufus' door the next morning, the boy was already up and dressed. With a brief, "Good morning," Rufus was off down the corridor, heading for the kitchen, leaving a surprised Reno to catch up.

Rufus was about to open the kitchen door when he head Cid's too-loud voice saying, "So – the blond kid with the crush on Reno – that's Rufus Shinra?"

Rufus' heart leapt in his chest, and without thinking, he made a frantic gesture at Reno to turn back. Reno frowned and mouthed, "Why?"

Through the door, Rufus heard Rude saying, "The kid's Rufus Shinra. But crush? No. A little hero worship, maybe."

"You think? Well – you're the Turk. Can't get nothing past a Turk – ain't that what they say?"

"Yes."

"Not much like his father, is he?"

"More like his mother, I think," Rude replied. "Is that coffee ready yet?"

Reno had drawn level with Rufus silently. "What's wrong?" he whispered.

"Nothing," Rufus replied. "I just – That is – they were talking. I thought they were talking about me – but I was wrong."

"Right. So you thought you'd listen in?"

Rufus flushed, but Reno only grinned. "We'll make a Turk of you yet. C'mon. I want breakfast, even if you don't."

Cid waved a casual hand as Reno entered the kitchen, then looked at Rufus with that same amused expression that had so infuriated him on the previous evening.

"Good morning, folks," Cid said cheerfully. "Looks like a great day for a flight. I'm thinking of testing my new engines this morning – if you want to hang around for that."

Reno looked at Rude hopefully, but the older Turk shook his head. "I'm sorry – we've finished here. We have to get back to Midgar as soon as possible."

"Shame," replied Cid. "Some other time, huh, Reno?"

"You bet," Reno replied. "And I'm back here first free weekend I get – I'm holding you to that promise to teach me to fly the turboprop, yeah?"

Cid drained his coffee, and set the mug down on the counter with a bang. Rufus frowned.

"Sure thing, kid. See you round." Cid waved again, and walked out of the door. It took Rufus a few seconds to register that the _kid_ had been aimed at Reno, not him.

"He called you 'kid'," Rufus said to Reno, incredulous.

Reno shrugged. "Yeah, well. I guess, to him, I am a kid."

"Don't you _mind_?"

"Not from him. It's like when I call you kid." A thought seemed to occur to Reno. "Why?" he asked, "Do _you_ mind?"

"No," Rufus replied. "As long as you don't do it in meetings."

"Deal," said Reno, with a wink. Rufus did his best to ignore the way Reno's casual charm affected him, focussing instead on the anger he felt towards Cid Highwind. Who the hell did the man think he was, talking to Rude about him like that? And more to the point, how had he known about Rufus' feelings? Surely his 'crush' wasn't that obvious? Rude hadn't believed it, luckily, and Reno had been too far down the corridor to overhear. But Cid had almost blown Rufus' cover – and that was something Rufus wasn't about to forgive.

"Keep working on your toy airplanes, Highwind," Rufus thought viciously. "That's the closest you're getting to space, if I have anything to do with it!"

Reno handed Rufus a mug of coffee, and Rufus took it with a curt, "Thanks."

Rude, watching carefully, thought, _Highwind's got the wrong idea there, hasn't he? Better keep an eye on that though, just in case…_ Aloud he said, "Let's finish up here. I want to be back in Midgar before dark."

* * *

**Thanks for reading. **


	19. Chapter 19

**Sorry for another long delay - life, you know? But chapter twenty is all but written, so should be up much sooner. Thank you again to all the patient readers and reviewers - and thank you CameoAmalthea for the chats about why on Earth Rufus might have thought _Dark Nation_ was a sensible name for his pet! **

* * *

Back in Midgar, it took Reno about two minutes to discover that Lee Gale was Ben Gale's cousin. The file on Lee was as freely accessible as any other SOLDIER file, and contained the records of a solid, but unremarkable career, culminating in Lee's promotion to Second Class a few months before his death in Wutai, ambushed, along with a small group of Thirds, by a Crescent unit in the mountains. There was no hint of anything out of the ordinary, and nothing that Reno could detect to make him think the file had been tampered with. Was it possible that Veld really didn't know about the connection? No. Reno was sure of what he'd seen in the meeting – Veld knew something. Reno had no choice but to go with Rufus, get the kid to tell Veld about his mother's affair, and watch the Director's reaction.

Rufus was nervous, but doing a good job of hiding it. Reno felt proud of him: in these last few months he'd come to see the President's son as a kind of mission in himself, almost like having an apprentice. The kid had handled himself well in Palmerville and Iselheim, and although his rather cool, superior manner still managed to irritate Reno on a regular basis, he found that he liked Rufus much more than he'd expected to at the start.

In response to Reno's knock, Veld came to the door of his office himself, and held it open. Rufus entered first, head up, appearing quite collected. Reno followed, his usual self-confident demeanour concealing his own apprehension.

"You wanted to see me?" Veld asked Reno.

"Yes, Sir. Rufus has some information we think you should have. It's… of a sensitive nature." Reno couldn't quite believe how formal he sounded. _Must've been spending too much time with Rufus_, he thought, almost smiling, then thinking better of it.

"I see." Veld gestured to two chairs positioned in front of his desk. He waited as Rufus and Reno sat, but remained standing himself.

"Well?"

Rufus took a breath, but his voice was steady as he said, "Ben Gale is related to Lee Gale – his cousin – who was in SOLDIER. About three years ago, my father told me that my mother had an affair with Lee Gale. I thought it might be relevant."

Reno's eyes were fixed on Veld, and at first he thought he'd been entirely wrong – that Veld genuinely had no idea. The Director's expression grew stormy as he said, "Your father told you this _three years_ ago? And he didn't tell us? How am I supposed to do my job properly –" With a visible effort Veld calmed himself and looked at Rufus, his gaze steady. "I'm sorry. That's not your problem. I appreciate the fact that you came to me with this."

"I wasn't going to," Rufus said. "If my father didn't tell you, he obviously wanted it kept a secret from everyone. But _someone_ else knew. He showed me photos."

Reno tried hard to keep his expression neutral as Rufus mentioned the photos. He hadn't known that. And who, if not the Turks, would have taken those? Nothing added up.

"I see," said Veld. "Tell me exactly what you know."

Rufus recounted the events that had taken place in his father's office on the day after his mother's memorial. Veld listened attentively, made some notes, but Reno, still watching him narrowly, was unconvinced by his seeming interest. Something was nagging at Reno's consciousness – something about Veld's initial reaction to Rufus' information. And the photos – surely the President wouldn't have employed some outside agency to spy on his wife? That was a job for the Turks if ever there was one. Anyone else would be too much of a security risk. Unless there was some other department in existence, secret even from the Turks? It seemed unlikely, but the longer Reno worked for Shin-Ra the more he came to realise that anything was possible.

Veld put down his pen, and gave Rufus one of his rare, slight smiles. "Thank you for telling us about this. It could be vital. If Ben Gale knew about Lee's relationship with your mother – if Lee told him before he died in Wutai – then it's possible that Mallory Hyde knows, too. He could use that information in all kinds of ways. I'll have to speak to your father. He may not be pleased to find out that you've told us about this – but I need the truth from him."

Rufus nodded. "That's alright. I don't care what he thinks of me."

Veld said nothing to that, but asked, instead, "In his report, didn't Reno mention something about you wanting a guard hound?"

"Yes!" Rufus replied, instantly enthusiastic. "I saw them at Palmervi – uh – I mean the Space Research Facility."

"It's alright," Veld said, sounding almost jovial. "We all call it Palmerville. Reno can escort you up to the Science Department at two. I'll let Hojo know to expect you."

"Doesn't my father need to approve it?" Rufus asked.

"He put me in charge of your security. I consider a guard hound to be a useful addition to that. I don't see how he could object."

Rufus' smile was the most open, purely boyish expression Reno had ever seen on him.

_Good move, Veld,_ he thought. _Distracting the kid with a puppy! But – won't work on me, yo. What's with the buddy-buddy attitude? You've never called Space Research 'Palmerville' in your life. You're hiding something big, and I'm gonna find out what it is."_

x-x-x

Veld fumed as he paced back and forth at the base of the twin purple-carpeted staircases that led up to Floor Seventy and the President's office. What in Gaia's name did Julius think he was playing at?

The President's secretary, Alana Reed, descended the right-hand staircase. Ever the professional, she waited until she reached the bottom and crossed to Veld's side, before stating calmly, "The President will see you now, Director Veld."

_About bloody time_ Veld thought, but aloud he only said, "Thank you," and followed her up the stairs, wondering, as he did each time he met Alana, how she managed to keep her composure intact while working in such close proximity to one of the most infuriating men on the planet. At the top of the stairs Alana announced him to the President, stood aside to let him onto Floor Seventy, and made her way back downstairs.

Veld hated discussing important matters in the vast space of Julius Shinra's office. He was often forced to be cryptic when he wanted to speak plainly, simply because he was never sure whether or not he could be overheard, despite all the complex electronic screening devices that had been built into the room's infrastructure. He'd been on the floor below in the past when Julius had been berating some unfortunate underling, and he'd been able to hear almost every word.

Julius looked at him from behind the quite unnecessarily huge desk, frowning a little. "Rufus all right?" he asked.

"Rufus is fine. But he told me something today that I need to discuss with you. In private."

"My office _is_ private."

"Not private enough."

"Well, talk quietly then. Until Reeve gets those damned elevators fixed I'm going nowhere until the end of the day. Have you got any idea how long it takes me to get up here?"

"All right." Veld made no attempt to lower his voice. "I suppose you're not too concerned about security in any case, since it appears you told Rufus all about a SOLDIER Second Class called - "

Julius Shinra actually blanched. "All right, all right – you've made your point. I'll clear everyone off Sixty-nine."

"Thank you."

Julius made a phone call, and Veld heard Alana's low voice answering. A few moments later a red light flashed on a monitor on the President's desk. Veld moved behind his chair to check all the security cameras on an adjacent monitor.

"It's locked down," Julius said impatiently. "You know it's secure. Your people designed it."

"Right. So – why did you tell Rufus? After all you said to me about making sure he never finds out! I've been trying to keep him out of the way of the investigation into Ben Gale's background, but he's been involved in the search for Hyde. Rufus is a very intelligent boy. Give him clues like this and he's going to start putting things together. I'm assuming you don't want that?"

"No. But he needed to know what his mother was like. He thought she was some kind of angel, and I was the bad guy. He thinks Lee Gale died in Wutai. He thinks his mother died in an accident – just like everyone else does. How can he work anything out from that?"

Veld had to restrain himself from shouting at the President. "Because," -_you idiot_, he mentally added – "You failed to tell me that you'd told him! So, of course, I concealed the fact that Ben Gale was related to Lee Gale, or that there even _was_ a Lee Gale. Rufus picked up on the name straight away: he's got to be wondering why the Turks didn't know about something as important as his mother's affair. You ordered me, in the strictest terms, to keep the whole incident secret from everyone, including the Turks who weren't directly involved. You told Rufus, and Rufus told Reno, about Lucia and Lee. That's two more people than were ever supposed to know."

"All right." Julius paced the floor behind his desk, as close to nervous as Veld had ever seen him. "All right – we'll get Rufus away from the case altogether. Send him to work in the Science Department for a while. Lazard can keep an eye on him. Get rid of Reno."

"Sir?"

"You're right. I shouldn't have told Rufus. He can't find out about Lucia's death – he'd turn against me completely. He's already so cold – so resentful. Reno knowing is a person too far."

Veld thought fast. "Sir – Reno only knows about the affair; nothing else. I think eliminating him is unnecessary."

"I don't want to take any chances. It's a shame – all that training going to waste – but I think it's for the best. Which one is Reno again?"

"The second newest recruit. The one who saved Rufus' life by uncovering the plot in Costa." He didn't add _and yours_.

Julius' blue eyes glittered dangerously. "Emotional blackmail, Veld?"

"Facts. We can't afford to lose someone now – not with the threat from Hyde still ongoing. Especially not someone of his calibre."

Julius frowned, considering.

"There's no reason to believe that Reno suspects anything," Veld added, thinking – _although if he's half the Turk I think he is, alarm-bells will have been sounding ever since Rufus told him._

"Hm. I thought I _paid_ the Turks to be suspicious?"

"But Reno has no reason to suspect anything more than an attempted cover-up of the affair. If he pushes – and I doubt he will – I'll give him the fact that we took out Gale. That should be more than enough."

"And if it isn't?"

"Then we can reconsider. But I believe Reno is loyal, and a valuable asset."

"Well…"

"To be frank, I think removing him would be counterproductive. Rufus seems to like Reno. If he were to die suddenly, I don't think Rufus would take it at face value, however I did it. We want Rufus to have fewer questions, not more. I've come up with a distraction for Rufus, anyway. He mentioned that he'd like a pet, so I thought a puppy? He can put his energies into training it."

"A puppy? Really? I bought Lazard a puppy once, but Laure said they couldn't look after it – she was at work and Lazard was at school… I think I ended up paying someone to keep it and take it round at weekends. I didn't think Rufus would be interested in pets. He never seemed the sort, somehow."

"So, we're agreed?"

"All right." Julius smiled thinly. "Don't think I can't see right through you Veld. You can give Rufus his puppy. And you can keep yours – for now. Just make sure he's as well-trained as you think he is."

x-x-x

Reno was on his way down to the canteen to buy a sandwich for lunch, uneasy, and more aware than Veld might have suspected of the danger Rufus' revelations could well have put him in. He hardly acknowledged Kit, who passed him on the stairs.

_If this_ is _some cover-up_, Reno pondered, _then what happens if they think I know too much? Shit, Rufus, I wish you'd never told me anything._ _If even_ Veld didn't _know…_ Reno's usual rapid jog down the stairs slowed. _But Veld did know. That's what I was missing! He wasn't angry that the President hadn't told him about Lee Gale – he was angry because he didn't know that _Rufus_ knew! So this is about more than the covering up of the affair. Lee Gale was a hit. Had to be. There might be something in the files – if he was never really in Wutai. But do I look for it, or do I leave it alone? _Reno came to a stop. His appetite had vanished. _If _Lee_ was a hit – what about…? _No. Some things were too dangerous even to _think_.

But a thought couldn't be un-thought.

A few minutes later, Reno was back at his computer, re-scanning Lee Gale's file. He told himself that it would be okay – that, of course, Veld would expect him to be curious after Rufus' revelation – but Reno's finely tuned instinct for self-preservation was engaged in a bitter struggle with his almost compulsive need to uncover the truth, and an unwelcome mix of anxiety and adrenaline made his heartbeat quicken as he clicked through files – Lee's – those of the other SOLDIERS killed in the ambush in Wutai – reports of the battle. Everything checked out. Then Reno read through all the update dates in the file manager. Superficially everything matched.

Working back through the system, Reno began a meticulous check of the files. After about an hour, he was beginning to allow himself to relax: it all looked above-board. Then something odd caught his eye. The orders transferring Lee into a small infantry unit he'd never worked with before – the unit that had been wiped out in the ambush – had been copied and pasted from somewhere else. That original file had been deleted, but the copy date had not. The order sending Lee Gale to the front had apparently been written two days after he died.

Reno felt a curious sensation – the elation of being right, coupled with cold dread. As quickly as he could, given that his hands were starting to shake, he permanently deleted all traces of the copy data. This was bad. Reno had been on plenty of dangerous missions, but, for the first time since joining the Turks, he began to feel really frightened. This must be how a mark felt, realising that a Turk was after him.

_What do I do?_ Reno thought, controlling his panic with an effort. _Do I tell Veld, or do I play dumb? If I make the wrong call…_

"Reno!" Veld's voice made Reno start – he couldn't help himself.

"Sir?"

"You're supposed to be escorting Rufus up to the Science Department to chose his guard hound in two minutes. I hope you hadn't forgotten?"

"No, Sir." Reno shut down his computer quickly. He had forgotten.

"Oh, and Reno?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"I want to see you in my office as soon as you get back."

Reno's heart gave the same sickening lurch it had done on the day - more than three years ago now - in the ruined church in the Sector Five slums, when he had woken to find Tseng's gun aimed straight between his eyes.

x-x-x

"The lab-bred ones sometimes develop abnormalities," Professor Hojo was saying, gesturing to the row of ten cages that ran at floor level along one wall of the room. "Occasionally there are interesting mutations we can exploit – it's how we developed their barrier capability. Materia transfer – a fascinating topic." He paused to check that Rufus was listening. The young man looked up from his study of the small black forms, mostly asleep in the cages, and gave Hojo a quick nod. By the door a red-haired Turk paced nervously, a caged specimen himself, uneasy away from his familiar territory.

When he was satisfied that the President's son was giving him the proper level of attention, Hojo continued: "We implanted a small amount of barrier materia into a group of puppies. Most rejected it – over half died. But in one, the materia disappeared. We thought it had been absorbed, but when one of our technicians came to dispose of the beast it cast barrier in defence, so, naturally we bred it. In the first litter one of the puppies had barrier capabilities – in the litter bred from that one, three did. When we dissected the creatures, after breeding, we found that the materia had become a part of the organism – a web-like matrix lining the chest cavity. We continued breeding, selecting the ones with the strongest barrier capabilities and those that seemed the most receptive to training. The guard hounds we use now were the result."

Rufus bent to look more closely at the creatures in their steel cages – small, sleek animals, about the length of his forearm. Every one was a glossy blue-black. Most were huddled in the corners of their cages, sleeping. One lay sprawled in the centre of the sawdust covering the concrete floor of its prison. One prowled restlessly. When Rufus knelt beside its cage it turned in a circle and stopped dead, looking straight at him out of cat-like yellow eyes. The fur on the back of its neck bristled and a short protuberance there rose like the crest on a lizard.

"What's that?" Rufus asked.

"It's a tentacle bud," Hojo replied. "The tentacles grow over the first six months of the creature's life. Once the guard hound is mature, the tentacle develops a nasty sting. If we're using them for experimental purposes, we remove the stings – but in a guard animal it's a useful weapon."

"Is it a cat or a dog?" Rufus asked. "It has features of both."

"Neither," said Hojo impatiently. "It's a guard hound. That's like asking whether a grand horn is a zuu or a cripshay."

Rufus raised an eyebrow at the professor's sneering tone, but Hojo took no notice.

"You train them like dogs," he said. "They purr like cats. They sting like jellyfish. They are what they are."

"But they're not, are they?" retorted Rufus, getting to his feet. "They're what you made them in the lab. They're not natural."

Hojo smiled, taking Rufus' comment as complimentary.

"That's right," he chuckled, "That's right. The things I can do with science! They said you were bright." Hojo's eyes narrowed as he regarded Rufus speculatively. "You know, Lazard's been doing some useful work on the SOLDIER programme. You should join us. I hear you've been wasting your time with the Turks." He gave an unpleasant grin that was possibly supposed to be conspiratorial, but made no attempt to lower his voice as he said, "Between you and me, the Turks are little more than the human equivalents of guard hounds."

From his position by the door, Reno bristled visibly, which only reinforced Hojo's point. The scientist ignored the Turk, and continued, "Veld has them well trained, but I can't imagine they have much to teach _you_. I've wondered about breeding materia into _them_ – but human breeding is tediously slow and inefficient. We're looking at implants instead. The trouble is, at present, implanted materia causes side-effects – quite often death."

"Yes – I should imagine death would be an irritating side-effect," Rufus commented, his tone dry.

Hojo only nodded. "Apparently it takes a long time and a lot of money to train a Turk. Veld would probably object, unless I had a high success rate."

"I think Veld might object in any case," Rufus said, wondering whether Hojo was serious, or if this was the man's idea of deadpan humour. He glanced at Reno. Something was wrong with the Turk this afternoon – he seemed unsettled – almost nervous. Rufus resolved to ask him about it when they were alone.

The guard hound puppy hadn't moved. Its eyes were fixed on Rufus.

"I'll take this one," Rufus said.

"It seems a healthy specimen," Hojo agreed. "Alert." He checked information on a computer monitor on the wall above the cages. "Cage four. Six weeks old. Female. Already showing effective barrier capabilities. Good choice."

Hojo was busy typing something on a keyboard on a narrow shelf that ran the length of the lab, above the guard hounds' cages and below the banks of computer monitors. On all six of the monitor screens an image of a dark mass of cells appeared. Hojo smiled proudly. "Look at them all," he said to Rufus. "Cells taken from your guard hound there. Cloning, used alongside breeding, is the most efficient way forward, I believe. It's a passion of mine."

Rufus looked at the thin-faced, colourless scientist and found it hard to believe that such a creature could be passionate about anything. Rufus' eyes were drawn back to Reno – his vivid hair the one point of colour in the sterile whiteness of the lab. Reno looked at his watch, pointedly.

Hojo continued, "From those cells I could eventually create an entire nation of guard hounds – all identical to yours."

A line from a Classical Studies text he'd had to learn by heart for an exam came into Rufus' head. "So we shall slay: so shall we populate / Twice o'er that dread dark nation of the dead," he quoted.

"What's that?" Hojo asked, frowning. For all his scientific genius, he was not a broadly educated man.

"It's from Sirus' account of the battle of Elmesh," Rufus told him. "Where the Hirydian general threatens to send every last one of his enemies to the underworld – the 'dread dark nation of the dead'. It seemed appropriate for your proposed nation of hellhounds."

Without asking, Rufus knelt and pressed the key-release on his chosen guard hound's cage. Sliding back the bars, Rufus held out one hand to the creature, but did not attempt to touch it.

Slowly the puppy edged forward, ears back flat against its head, whiskers twitching. Rufus held still. Behind him Hojo warned, "Even at this age, they bite."

"You won't bite _me_, though, will you," Rufus said to the puppy. His tone was too self-assured to be a question. The puppy sniffed at his hand. Rufus waited.

Reno had moved closer, watching.

The puppy rubbed her head, cat-like, against Rufus' fingers. Rufus stroked his hand firmly along her back, and a tremor ran through her body. Rufus smiled. "Come on, girl." He reached into the cage with both hands and lifted the creature out. She did not resist as he held her in one arm, and stroked her short velvet fur. Rufus felt the vibrations of her low purr against his palm, before the sound swelled and filled the room.

"She likes you," Reno said.

Hojo took a step forward and reached out a hand. The puppy stopped purring instantly and turned her head to stare at him. When he took another step, she growled. Rufus smiled. "She's mine now." He looked down at the creature in his arms. "You'll fight for me, won't you?" he said. "Hell on paws. My 'dread dark nation.'"

"Is that her name?" Reno asked, incredulous. "_Dread Dark Nation_?"

"Just _Dark Nation_."

"It's… different," Reno said. "But it kinda suits her."

"It's entirely unnecessary," Hojo interjected. "It will answer to its lab code – GHX4."

"Her name is Dark Nation," Rufus told him, his cool tone making it quite clear that the matter was settled. "Is there a training guide? I assume Security has a training programme in place."

"Yes, yes. I'll have Lazard send you a copy of the manual. You'll need the cage, too."

"No I won't. She's not going back in a cage. She's coming with me."

"You can't let it free in your rooms," Hojo said. "It will shred furniture – it's not house trained. You were right when you called them hellhounds. You do understand that this is not a regular animal?"

"She's a monster. Yes, I understand that. But she won't give _me_ hell. I'll train her. She doesn't need a cage."

Hojo shrugged. "Have it your own way. But don't come to me for restore materia when it rips all the skin off your hand."

"She won't hurt me. I'm not afraid of her."

"Well, I'm sure that's the attitude!" Hojo said. He gave a thin laugh. "Just make sure it's trained by the time it's six months old and full sized. Otherwise, you really will have problems."

"The situation's under control," Rufus assured him. Dark Nation had settled against his chest, and was purring again.

As Rufus turned to leave the lab, the door opened. Reno was instantly between him and the person who stood framed in the doorway. The Turk only relaxed marginally when he saw it was Lazard.

"Rufus!" Lazard exclaimed, with what Rufus considered to be a fairly convincing impression of an open, friendly smile. "Professor Hojo said you were coming up. Is that the one you've chosen?"

"Yes," said Rufus. He didn't smile back.

Lazard crossed the room, and stroked Dark Nation's head. To Rufus' annoyance, the puppy didn't seem to object.

"Which one did you pick?" Lazard glanced at the cages. "Oh – number four, is it? Good choice. She's the quickest learner. I've got to know them all, these last few weeks. What're you going to call her?"

"She's called Dark Nation."

"Ah." Lazard was clearly searching for something positive to say about that. Finally he settled on, "That's unusual. Why Dark Nation?"

"It's from a classical text. You wouldn't know it."

"No, I doubt I would. They didn't teach Classics at my school. Well – you're more imaginative than I was. I called my puppy Patch because – well – I suppose it's obvious why. But I was only seven."

"You had a puppy?"

"Yes. Well, actually it was a kind of part-time puppy. Dad never thought about the logistics, I suppose. He paid a neighbour to keep it and bring it round at weekends."

Rufus' smile was hard as he replied, "I see. I'd have thought your mother would've been able to look after it though? Don't women in her - profession -work nights?"

Lazard composed himself remarkably quickly, but not before Rufus had seen the flash of a hate that promised murder in his too-familiar blue eyes. It gave Rufus a vicious satisfaction to know that his older half-brother wasn't as confident and invulnerable as he pretended to be.

"My mother worked days _and_ nights," Lazard said, his voice steady. "A lot of people in the slums have to."

"I'm surprised _she_ did though," Rufus said. "It was rather remiss of _Dad_ to go buying you birthday presents and pets, and yet leave you both in the slums, wasn't it? It's not as though he doesn't have apartments all over the plate."

"She wouldn't take his money – not for herself," Lazard stated. "But how like a Shinra to assume money solves everything."

"That's not an assumption I make, actually," Rufus replied. "Money means little without the imagination to use it."

Unexpectedly, and against all protocol, Reno cut in, "Yeah. But – you come from the slums, you can _imagine_ all you want. Imagination don't mean a hell of a lot when there _is_ no money." In response to Rufus' glare, Reno shrugged, "Jus' sayin'."

Hojo's creaky laughter made all three of them turn to look at him. "Don't fight, children," he said. "Lazard, I need you back downstairs. Sephiroth's due in from Wutai this evening, and there's the matter of those tests we discussed."

Lazard looked as though he was about to argue, but then he nodded. "Yes, of course." He glanced at Rufus, no longer smiling. "Rufus."

"Lazard."

Reno stood back to let him leave.

When Lazard had gone, Dark Nation made a soft noise somewhere between a mew and a yelp and butted her blunt head against Rufus chest. Rufus stroked her absently, thinking. When he looked up his expression was unreadable. "Well, thank you Professor," he said. "Please arrange for the training manual to be sent to me. If you contact Veld, he can have Reno pick it up. I'd prefer it if you didn't send Lazard, all things considered."

"As you like. But you know what they say about blood being thicker than water," Hojo replied. "If there's one thing working in genetics proves, it's the truth of that saying."

"Don't they also have something to say about the survival of the fittest?" Rufus countered. Not waiting for a reply, he passed Reno without a word, holding Dark Nation close.

Rufus said nothing until they were in the stairwell and he was sure that no one else was present. Then he rounded on Reno, eyes blazing. "What the hell was _that_?"

Dark Nation turned her yellow stare on Reno, and growled.

"What?" Reno asked, not in the mood to deal with Rufus' temper.

"You, butting in up there – supporting Lazard!"

"Just stating my opinion."

"You're not paid to have opinions."

"Thought you weren't all about the money? All I know is, where I come from, you don't dis someone's mom for working hard."

Rufus scoffed. "I looked at Lazard's file. His mother wasn't much more than a glorified stripper."

"So what? It's a job. That was a cheap shot, kid."

Rufus only shrugged, his fingers tightening in Dark Nation's fur. The puppy twisted her head and gave him a warning growl. He slackened his grip and murmured, "Sorry girl," disorientated by how much Reno's disapproval stung.

"Why're you in such a foul mood, anyway?" Rufus asked, his eyes still on the guard hound.

"I'm fine," Reno lied. "You just need to remember – not everyone's had the life you have. Not everyone gets much of a say in what they do – what happens to them."

Rufus tossed his head, and muttered, "Whatever…" thinking _– and who'd _want_ the life I have, if they knew what it was like? Who'd fucking want it?_

Reno escorted Rufus back to his apartment in silence, waited until Lex came to relieve him, then made his way back to the D.A.R offices for the meeting with Veld he'd been dreading all afternoon.

Rufus talked to Lex about Dark Nation, called back up to the labs to find out what she ate, and put in an order for three hundred gil's worth of premium steak at _Fortune and Measham_ just because he could - and because he knew what Reno would think of spending so much money on a pet. It didn't really make him feel any better, but he told himself he didn't care.

x-x-x

Reno had never really understood the expression _his heart was in his mouth_ until now. It was not a comfortable sensation, and Veld – the bastard – was making him wait while he concluded some other meeting. Reno ignored the row of chairs outside the Director's office and paced nervously, thinking of Hojo's words, feeling like one of those guard hound puppies in their cramped cages.

_Gaia_, he thought. _It's true. If they think I know something I shouldn't they'll have me put down without a thought. I don't even have barrier magic - I'm weaker than a guard hound. All that power – being a Turk – it's just another one of Shin-Ra's godsdamned illusions. How the fuck do I get out of this one?_

The door opened and Reno spun to face it. Tseng stood there, his expression giving Reno no clues. "Come in Reno," Tseng said. When Reno had passed him, Tseng closed the door softly, remaining in the room. Reno half expected to feel the muzzle of Tseng's gun against the base of his skull at any moment – knew he couldn't look round to check without betraying his anxiety to Veld.

Standing tall, feigning confidence, Reno fought to control the sudden urge to throw up. "You wanted to see me, Boss?" Saying something out loud was a relief. His voice sounded normal. Perhaps he could face this with some kind of dignity, at least.

"Yes Reno. Have a seat."

Reno sat as casually as he could manage, given that his knees felt about ready to collapse under him. Tseng moved to the chair beside him, which was better. At least he'd have some warning if the Turk Second went for his gun.

"When did Rufus tell you about his mother and Lee Gale?" Veld asked.

"Yesterday, in Iselheim. He said he had something to tell me - asked me to promise not to tell anyone, but I told him I couldn't do that until I knew what it was."

"And he told you, on those terms?" Veld asked, with a glance at Tseng.

"Yes. I did promise I'd only talk to you about it. Figured no harm in that – since the technology lock-down meant I couldn't contact you until we got back anyhow. Did some digging this morning – found Lee and Ben were cousins – brought Rufus straight to you."

"Can't fault that," Veld nodded. "So – would you say Rufus trusts you?"

"Never given him a reason not to."

"Why do you think he told _you_ – not Rude, say?"

Reno frowned, not sure where this line of questioning was going – wishing Veld would just cut to the chase. "My irresistible personality, maybe? Honestly, Boss, I don't know. Maybe 'cause I'm not that far off his age?"

"Hm. And you've been looking into Lee Gale's death?"

Reno had always suspected that all the staff computers were under constant surveillance. Well – at least that took the decision from him: Veld already knew what he knew.

"Guess you know I have."

"Yes. And you concluded?"

Reno took a shallow breath and made himself say it. "Lee Gale was a hit. A hit by this department. The Turks carried out all the surveillance on Lucia Shinra." He hoped to Gaia that Veld would think his easy mention of Lucia's name meant that he wasn't suspicious on that score. For good measure he added, "And someone made a sloppy job of covering up Gale's death. Took me not much over an hour to find stuff in the files that didn't match up."

"Yes. The person responsible has already been reprimanded. And you're right, of course. We removed Lee Gale. Fortunately, we're now as certain as we can be that Ben Gale knew nothing about the affair."

"Right." Reno waited, wary and still frightened.

Tseng asked, "Reno – you must have guessed that staff computers are monitored. Didn't it occur to you that you were putting yourself at risk by investigating Lee Gale?"

"Yeah," said Reno slowly, wondering if this was some kind of trap. "But I figured if this stuff was all top-secret, then I was already in deep water over what Rufus told me. And I wanted to know…"

"Curiosity is a necessary attribute for a Turk," Veld told him. "But there are times when it pays _not_ to be too curious."

"For sure," replied Reno, risking a smile. "Tell the cat."

"Exactly. The President is very concerned."

Reno's smile vanished. Nausea swept over him again.

Veld gave Reno a straight look. "Listen. You're one life down on the nine. It was that close. Stay away from this case, and keep Rufus away from it. Any questions you have, keep them to yourself. You don't mention anything about it to any of the other Turks. Do you understand?"

"Yes. I understand."

Tseng said, "We want you to keep working with Rufus. He seems to respect you – to look up to you, even. The President doesn't want Rufus involved in the search for Hyde any longer. He'll be doing some work up in the Science department for a few months, followed by a secondment in the Junon branch office. Unless there are any major developments, you'll be assigned to him more or less permanently – his principle bodyguard. Rude and Lex will be working with you."

"But –"

Veld raised an eyebrow, and Reno fell silent.

Tseng continued, "Reno – it's vital for everyone that Rufus feels that the Turks are on his side. If he even suspects that we were spying on his mother – that we were responsible for Lee Gale's death - it could destroy all the trust we've built in him so far. When you went to Costa with him, we told you to let him know how we operate. That's still the case – but keep him away from this one thing. He was never supposed to hear the name Lee Gale. The President told us he'd never tell him – then, it appears, he changed his mind."

"Okay. So – what? You just want me to watch him?"

Veld shook his head. "We want you to encourage him – in any activity that seems to interest him, except for this investigation. Help him train the guard hound. Steer him towards more appropriate pastimes for a teenaged boy. Let him explore the other departments as much as he likes, but make sure he does some socialising too. He should be going to parties, being seen at charity events – featuring in the gossip magazines for the right reasons."

"He hates all that stuff," said Reno, thinking of the reception in Costa del Sol.

"It's vital for his public image," Veld said. "Your job is to make sure he understands that, and acts on it. Do you have any questions?"

"No, Sir."

"Have I made myself perfectly clear about the whole Lee Gale case?"

"Crystal."

"Good. Then, you can go. Rufus will be transferring to the Science department in a week or two, when we – apparently – draw a blank in the Ben Gale and Malory Hyde investigations. Of course, it's quite likely that we will draw a blank anyway."

Reno only nodded, his feeling of relief undermined by continuing unease. They weren't going to kill him – not today, at least - but it sounded as though he had Veld to thank for that, not President Shinra.

_After I saved the bastard's life_, Reno thought, more upset than he would have expected to be by the ingratitude of a man he'd never even met. _So – all this secrecy… Veld and Tseng are as good as telling me they offed Lucia too, aren't they? Can that be true? _

Tseng was smiling slightly as he said, "Let it go, Reno. Put it out of your mind. Your focus is on Rufus now."

"Right. Got it."

"Good," Veld said, with a curt nod. "You can start by having a quiet word with Rufus about Lee Gale. Tell him all the evidence from Gongaga and from Lex and Dana's investigations here in Midgar points to the fact that Ben had no idea about Lee's relationship with Lucia – and that, therefore, I see no reason to tell the other Turks about the affair. That should be enough to ensure Rufus' silence on the matter."

"Yes, Sir."

"Go and have your break now, Reno. Relieve Lex at eight – do the evening shift. Talk to Rufus then."

Veld and Tseng watched Reno leave the office. Tseng closed the door, turning back to the Director and observing, "He put it all together, didn't he."

"I thought he would." Veld frowned, but there was satisfaction in his tone. "I don't want to lose that one, Tseng, and it came too damn close to that today. Keep an eye on him – and Rufus. By the way – do you think there's anything in what Highwind said to Rude?"

"About Rufus' sexuality? I'd say it's too early to be sure. But it wouldn't surprise me. Something clearly happened at school between him and one of the Domino boys - Sacha it was. When I went to bring Dominic Ashburn to heel, he implied as much, although he seemed certain that Sacha was gay, and not so sure about Rufus."

"Well – if he _is_, that's going to be another headache. The President would not be – sympathetic, I think."

"No. I should imagine not."

Veld sighed. "Keep an eye on that too, Tseng. If necessary, brief Reno – but I'd say nothing for now. Rude said he didn't think Reno was aware of Rufus' possible feelings, and I told him to say nothing to Reno about it. Whatever else he may feel, it seems Rufus trusts Reno. That's what we need to build on for now."

"Yes, Sir."

"Oh – and Tseng – tell Lex I want to see him, please. He screwed up on the Gale files – he let Rufus pull that damn-fool stunt with the jet-ski… I don't know what's happened to him lately. I used to rate him – thought he'd be _your_ second one day, but I'd be recommending Kit or Dana now."

Tseng hesitated, then said, "He's not been the same since Lucia… I think they were closer than anyone knew."

"You're not suggesting some kind of a romantic attachment?"

Tseng shook his head. "Not at all – on her side. But Lex was her chief bodyguard for nearly five years…"

"He never said a word." Veld frowned, remembering. "I gave him the orders to cover up Lee's death – Lucia was dead by then – and he never gave any sign that it bothered him… Perhaps he's a better Turk than I'm giving him credit for, if he can keep something like that from me. Well – send him in. I'll see what he has to say for himself."

Tseng left Veld's office, feeling unusually off-kilter. Of all the hits over the years, Lee Gale was the one that still made him uneasy – the only one whose necessity he questioned. It was also the only case of all of them that refused to die a quiet death. Turks were not people who tended to believe in philosophies that included notions of afterlives, damnation or ghosts, and Tseng had always considered himself to be nothing if not rational. So why, he wondered, as he stopped by Lex's desk and told him, quietly, to report to the Director, did Lee Gale's death continue to haunt him with such unsettling persistence?

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	20. Chapter 20

**Thank you again to all who so kindly reviewed. You make me very happy. **

**This chapter got very long, so it's in two parts. The next part should be up in a day or two - there's a bit left to write. **

* * *

**One year later: Rufus 16, Reno 20**

Rufus shook his head, and Reno knew the discussion was over.

"Well – it's going to make security that much more difficult – but all right. I'll need to clear it with Veld though," Reno said.

"Yes. But there's no reason he shouldn't agree. I'll keep it low-key – you, Veld, the driver, and the manager will be the only people who know I'm going. It's less of a security risk than if I turn up with a full complement of bodyguards and sit in a box all evening."

"It's being televised. Couldn't you just stay in and watch…"

Rufus rounded on him, sudden, genuine anger bright in his eyes. "_Televised!_ You have no idea about music at all, do you? Honestly, sometimes I don't know what I –"

Appalled at the slip he had almost made, Rufus turned away, finishing, "What _Veld_ thinks he's doing, recruiting people who are so… ignorant and… uneducated!"

Reno shrugged. "_Ignorant and uneducated_. Yeah well – guess some educations are different from others. But I went to school." He wandered over to the window, hands thrust into his pockets, slouching deliberately. The Junon offices looked out over the ocean, lively waves sparkling in the early morning sunlight. Letting his accent fall into the old slum style, Reno looked back at Rufus with narrowed eyes, and added, "Din't teach us nothin' about that fancy music, yo. Reckon they figured it wouldn't be no use for slum-trash like us. Have to ask your daddy about that – it was one of _his_ schools. Readin', writin', Math. Then a whole heap of practical stuff like metal work an' electronics. Make us _useful_, yo."

"Stop it."

"Had this one crazy old bitch of a teacher used to make us do poems n' shit. I reckon, she was some, like, ex-Cosmo Canyon hippie or whatever – 'cause – what the fuck? Poems – _us_? I mean, what was the fuckin' _point_!"

"Reno! I didn't mean –"

"Yeah. You did."

"No, I didn't. Why do you have to be like this?"

Reno shrugged again, and for the first time Rufus understood why his father had always found it so annoying. He felt a sudden, strong urge to grab hold of Reno and just shake him, or hit him, or… something. Reno was four years his senior – it disturbed Rufus' sense of balance to see him acting like this – like a defensive kid. It was oddly – disappointing.

"Don't swear in front of me," Rufus said, his voice cold. "It's not appropriate. We're doing this my way – I'm going to this concert, and you're coming with me. You might learn something."

"Yes, _Sir_."

"Oh _grow up_! Clear it with Veld. And don't wear uniform – you need a proper suit. With a tie." Rufus walked out of the room without looking back.

Reno shook his head, as so often with Rufus caught between anger and amusement. Had the kid really just told _him_ to grow up? Yup. And deservedly, too. But Rufus' superior attitude really grated sometimes, and Reno couldn't resist playing down to it.

x-x-x

Rufus walked rapidly along the corridor and took the lift the six storeys to his rooms. At least here in Junon he wasn't quite so constantly guarded as he had been in Midgar – Reno and Lex were fairly laid back inside the building, although, when Rude was on duty, Rufus often found himself reprimanded for daring to climb a flight of stairs on his own.

Dark Nation pushed her blunt muzzle against his hand as Rufus entered his apartment. She'd grown rapidly since the day he'd chosen her in Hojo's lab, and, having reached her full size, her long tentacle arching back almost double the length of her spine, she was an impressive beast. Rufus was well aware that most people found guard hounds at best unattractive and at worst terrifying, but over the course of the last year he'd come to think of her as a loyal companion. She'd been responsive to training – although Hojo had been right – she'd shredded a lot of furniture at first. But now she did as Rufus commanded with unquestioning, instantaneous obedience, and he loved her for it.

Despite her fearsome appearance Dark Nation's short fur was surprisingly soft. Running his hand over her glossy back while she pressed, purring, against his legs with almost enough force to knock him over, Rufus was suddenly reminded of stroking a toy he'd owned as a child – a plush fox – that had been his only comfort during his first nights at school. He wondered, briefly, what had become of it? He remembered it used to have a very soft, long, red tail…

_Stop it_, Rufus told himself, angrily. Dark Nation, sensing the sudden tension in him, gave a muted whine. Rufus sighed. "Settle down," he murmured, to the guard hound - to himself.

Surely this, too, was only a matter of training? If he forced himself to put thoughts of Reno out of his mind the moment they occurred, they would gradually stop happening, wouldn't they?

Rufus sat on the immaculate white sofa, and Dark Nation, who knew better, by now, than to try to climb on the furniture, lay on the floor in front of him and rested her heavy head on his feet. Rufus' mind was a lot less obedient to his will than the guard hound was, however, and he found himself replaying the conversation with Reno in his head. Why did the Turk have to be so damned infuriating all the time?

During the past year, working, at his father's insistence, in the labs, Rufus had been forced to endure the unwelcome company of his half-brother – and Reno had made matters worse by refusing to share or understand Rufus' antipathy to Lazard.

"He's only trying to be friendly, kid," Reno had said one day in the elevator, after a particularly irritating day during which Lazard had refused to rise to a single one of Rufus' sarcastic comments.

And when Rufus had replied, "Oh, come on! Surely you can see it's all fake? You can't trust him – he's after the company!" Reno had looked thoughtful and said, "Never said I _trusted_ him. Everybody's after _something_. Although - I think he means the stuff he says about regeneration in the slums."

"But you like him!" Rufus had blurted out, unable to keep the resentment from his tone. Reno, of course, had only laughed, and said, "Lazard's all right, kid, is all I'm sayin'." Which was more of a compliment, as far as Rufus could remember, than Reno had ever paid _him. _It had come as a welcome relief when, a few weeks before Rufus' sixteenth birthday, Lazard had been promoted to Director of SOLDIER, and no longer spent much of his time in the labs.

Rufus bent down to scratch Dark Nation behind the ears, which sent her into a frenzy of purring. At least he'd succeeded in one thing: he was certain that no one had a clue about his feelings concerning Reno. Ever since that horrible moment when he'd overheard Cid Highwind talking about him to Rude, Rufus had made every effort to be seen with girls. He'd done exactly what his father and Veld required of him – attended parties and film premiers; opened exhibitions at museums and galleries just as his mother had done before him. He'd become adept at giving speeches, and smiling at cameras no longer made his face ache. At all these events he'd surrounded himself with girls – talked to girls – kissed girls – and two months before his birthday he'd even gone out with a girl.

Felicity Lowe was a pretty brunette he'd met at some film society function where he'd been presenting an award for Best Female Lead in memory of his mother. He'd chosen Felicity because she was photogenic, easy-going, and not too bright. There had been some tasteful, high-profile photos in the press when she'd been his date at his extravagant and deeply boring sixteenth birthday party, and she hadn't made a fuss when he'd called it all off a few weeks later because he was going to be away in Junon for the foreseeable future, and it wasn't fair to expect her to wait for him. Rufus had seen the whole thing as a kind of mission – as if he were one of the Turks. He was pretty sure everyone had believed his act.

Reno believed it.

But Rufus wasn't going to think about Reno.

Gently, he nudged Dark Nation away, and went over to the desk, where he opened his laptop and looked up the programme for Sacha's concert. His former friend had continued to be very successful since the debut concert Rufus had watched on television in Costa del Sol on the day Alice Mortimer had failed to kill him. Sacha had released an album, and was, it seemed, the star of the Junon Music Academy. Rufus still felt that Sacha had betrayed him – but at the same time he was curious to see him again – to hear how far he had progressed. And Reno would be his bodyguard for the evening – not that it mattered. But it would be a chance for Reno to catch up on some of the musical education he had apparently missed out on at school. Although, knowing Reno, Rufus doubted he'd be grateful…

But Rufus wasn't going to think about Reno.

x-x-x

Tired of waiting for Reno, even if the sunset over Junon harbour was spectacular, Rufus glanced up irritably as the Turk entered the office, then openly stared, forgetting his annoyance. Reno had followed orders to the letter for once, and was wearing a well-cut three-piece dark grey suit, a subtly striped shirt and a tie that matched the darkest shade of red in his hair – a deep wine colour. His normally spiky hair was tamed and tied back, and if not exactly neat, certainly less chaotic than usual. His trademark goggles were absent. Rufus swallowed hard and said, "You look smart," which, he felt, was as much of a compliment as he dared risk, despite being a massive understatement. Reno looked fantastic.

Waving his hand dismissively, Reno said, "Ah – I can do smart when I have to. Lookin' sharp yourself, kid – but – you always do, yo."

Rufus looked down at his own black suit, an understated outfit, deliberately chosen to blend in with the Junon social set. Reno asked, "You know everyone's still going to know it's you, right?"

"I know. But by the time they do, we'll be leaving. I've arranged with the manager to let us in by a fire door, just before the start, when the auditorium's already dark. He's the only one who knows, and he's been sworn to secrecy."

"But aren't you staying afterwards – to see your friend?"

"No. I don't want Sacha to know I'm there. He was my friend – but we… fell out. He's a good cellist though. Perhaps a great one. That's what I want to find out."

"So – why did you fall out?" Reno asked. He remembered what Sacha's father had told him about that nasty piece of work Dominic, and the argument between Rufus and the Domino twins over the fact that they'd kept the existence of Lazard a secret, but he was interested to know Rufus' take on the event. Rufus only shook his head and said, "It's in the past. He kept things from me. I hate people who do that. I suppose he thought he was doing the right thing, but…"

"That would be the stuff about Lazard, right?" Reno asked. Rufus gave him a startled look. "How did..?"

"When your father wanted to find out whether or not you knew about Lazard being your brother -"

"_Half_-brother," Rufus corrected him.

"Yeah, okay. So - Veld sent me to ask questions. Mayor Domino told me you'd argued with his sons over that. And Tseng went to see the kid who spilled – Dominic wasn't it? He won't be giving away Shin-Ra secrets again."

"You mean – Dominic?"

"No – don't worry. He's alive. But – a little fear goes a long way, yo!"

"I wouldn't be sorry if he wasn't alive." Rufus' expression was harder than anything Reno had ever seen from the boy before, and he felt a little apprehensive chill at the thought of what might happen if _he_ ever made an enemy of Rufus.

Rufus pushed back his hair, his fierce expression softening into a thoughtful frown. "Although – Shin-Ra shouldn't have secrets. Not from me." Shaking his head, Rufus checked the gun Reno had insisted he carry and slipped it back into the shoulder holster beneath his jacket. "All right," he said, "Let's go."

The driver of the taxi was actually a member of Shin-Ra security, of course, and made no comment as Reno opened the door and ushered Rufus inside, glancing uneasily up and down the street as he did so, checking balconies and roofs with a practiced eye. This kind of thing was a security nightmare; Reno was frankly astonished that Veld had agreed to it. Either the Boss knew something Reno didn't, or Rufus was a lot more persistent and determined than Reno had so far given him credit for. Both scenarios were more than likely. But whatever the reason for Veld's acquiescence, the result was that Reno would be spending the entire evening solely responsible for the kid's safety, half strangled by a buttoned-up shirt and a fucking _tie_, being forced to listen to interminable classical cello music. None of which made an appearance on the list of Reno's top ten ingredients for a good night out.

x-x-x

Two hours into the concert, and Reno's evening wasn't improving. The music wasn't too bad, he supposed, apart from that experimental thing that Rufus had tried to explain to him during the interval, but that he still privately maintained sounded pretty much indistinguishable from the orchestra tuning up at the start. At least cello music was kind of easy stuff to let wash over you. And the chick at the piano was hot in an upper-plate, frosty way – blonde hair piled up like Scarlet's, although her navy evening gown was unfortunately a lot less revealing than some of the outfits the Head of Weapons Development saw fit to wear in the boardroom. Some of the girls in the orchestra might be okay, too – but they were too far away to be able to see properly.

Trouble was, it was impossible to relax, having to be constantly on the lookout for security threats without appearing to be. Thankfully, Rufus had managed to keep a low profile during the interval, remaining in his seat on the end of the row next to the fire exit and talking only to Reno. As far as Reno could tell, no one had recognized him.

So far so good, Reno thought, glancing at the programme the manager had insisted on pressing into his hand as he'd escorted them through the fire doors to their places. Only two more bits to go – something called 'Humoresque for cello' by R. Sockemann, which Reno was willing to bet his life wouldn't contain any actual humour, and a sonata for cello and piano by S. Franz. At least that was a composer Reno had vaguely heard of – so it probably wouldn't be anything too 'experimental' – but it had the disadvantage of being divided into three movements called allegro moderato, adagio and allegretto, which, Reno suspected, might go on a bit. Especially the adagio, because, judging by what he'd heard so far this evening, that seemed to mean 'suitable for playing on days when you feel like cutting your own throat just for something to do'. _See_, Reno thought, resisting the urge to yawn, and giving the auditorium another furtive sweep just in case - _Rufus would be proud of me; I've learned something already. _

'Humoresque' turned out to mean 'slightly less depressing than some of the other stuff' as far as Reno could tell. As he'd feared, he wasn't laughing. Waiting until Rufus started applauding – because the kid had informed him in the taxi, with that arrogant toss of his head, that it was more than his life was worth to clap in the wrong places – Reno tried to look enthusiastic. He glanced at Rufus, but the boy's attention was fixed on Sacha Domino.

"Is he good, then?" Reno whispered to Rufus.

Rufus turned to him, about to make some sharp reply, but then he saw that Reno meant the question – that he was trying.

"Yes," he answered quietly. "He's… much better than I expected, even after the concert we saw on TV that time in Costa. He's better than I ever thought he'd be. I wish…"

"What?"

"I wish I could explain to you _why_."

"Should've brought Tseng," Reno told him. "He gets all this stuff."

"I'll tell you more about it – next time. You'll learn."

Reno hoped his dry, "Thanks," didn't sound sarcastic – but Gaia! _Next_ _time_? Hadn't he suffered enough?

Sacha raised his bow, and Rufus' gaze returned to his former friend. Reno sensed a tension in Rufus that hadn't been apparent during the rest of the concert. Between scanning the audience, the exits and the lighting rigs in the roof for possible threats, Reno watched Rufus watching Sacha.

The Domino boy looked like an older, better-looking version of the photo in his original file. At school, where the picture had been taken, his face had been softer – more boyish. Almost a year older than Rufus, Sacha was fully-grown now - his jaw-line stronger, high cheekbones more defined. There was something of his father in him, Reno thought, but probably more of his mother. The mayor's face, now lined by stress and disappointment, had most likely never been as sharply handsome as his son's.

Sacha Domino was definitely gay, as Reno had discovered while hastily updating his file in the few hours between Rufus' first mention of the fact that he intended to go to the concert and the event itself. A minor musical celebrity since the release of his album, and always of interest to the press thanks to his father's official position as Mayor of Midgar, various gossip magazines had linked Sacha to a series of young men during the two years after leaving school, followed by what seemed to be a more serious relationship with a twenty-three year old pianist who was affiliated to the Junon Symphony Orchestra. Interestingly, Sacha's identical twin, Seb, appeared to be exclusively straight.

With nothing else to do but listen to music that meant nothing to him, and watch Rufus, Reno began to wonder about the argument that had caused Rufus to stop speaking to Sacha. Had it just been about Lazard? If so, why did Rufus seem less hostile to Seb? Rude had said the argument on the beach at Costa del Sol had been about Sacha – about Rufus upsetting Sacha.

Eyes on Rufus again, Reno thought, "Guess the kid's pretty good-looking. What if Sacha Domino had a thing for Rufus, and Rufus found out? What would Rufus do, in that case? Maybe he was angry – shocked. That would explain the conversation Rude heard. And that's why he doesn't want to see Sacha now – he's still interested in the music, but that's it. Bet I'm right."

The music stopped, and Reno almost clapped automatically, but Rufus glared at him and he caught himself in time. Then the slow bit started – the adagio – and when Reno had finished another one of his instinctive security checks and glanced back at Rufus, the expression on the boy's face was strikingly familiar. It was the look Reno had seen when Rufus had been watching Sacha on the television in Costa – that strange mix of admiration and envy that was at once both hostile and captivated. Reno looked from Rufus to Sacha and back, suddenly beginning to wonder whether his theory about Rufus' reason for wanting to avoid his former friend was too simple after all.

One more movement and the concert was over – Sacha smiling, bowing – the audience seemingly enraptured, people standing – _Rufus_ standing, his expression complex again, his smile strangely bitter.

"Okay," he said, turning to Reno, "Let's go – before anyone recognises me."

"You got it!" Reno replied, relieved. It was the work of two minutes to get Rufus safely out of the building and into the waiting taxi.

Sitting beside Rufus as they made the short return journey to the Junon offices, Reno allowed himself to relax – to a point. He wouldn't be really comfortable until the kid was safely back inside the Shin-Ra buildings, behind several layers of security and bulletproof glass.

"So," Rufus asked, glancing at Reno, "What did you think?"

"Ah, c'mon Rufus! What do you want me to say? Something like: I admired the 'voluptuous intensity' of the second movement of the Franz sonata? Or, I was impressed by 'Sacha Domino's confident lyricism and lithe technique'? 'Cause I could, yo."

Rufus stared at Reno. "Where did that come from?"

Reno grinned. "First one from the programme, second from the notes on the Domino kid's album – what was it? _Inspiration_?"

"Yes. It was really successful – for classical."

"Read it when I was doing security checks on the WN. But seriously kid, I don't know what to say. You know I don't know jack about that stuff. It was… fine. Not all as boring as I thought."

"That last Franz sonata you were talking about – that adagio is one of my favourite pieces of music. Didn't it do anything for you at all?"

"Well – I was kinda busy making sure no hidden terrorists had decided to take a shot at you – so, bit distracted."

"So – do you like _any_ music, Reno?"

"Sure. They play some good stuff at some of the clubs in the slums. You ever heard Gilded vs. Sector Nine – _Hyped Hype Renegade_?"

"No," replied Rufus, not sure which bits of that utterance were 'artists' and what was the name of the… song? Tune? He'd probably heard it at that club in Costa del Sol, or on one of those albums Seb was always playing at school - all that dance stuff sounded the same to him. "But I can imagine."

"Yeah? All sounds like boom-boom-boom to you, huh?"

"Yes."

"There you go." Reno leaned back in his seat, pleased to have made his point.

"There I go _what_?"

"Well – all that cello stuff sounds like eek – eek - eek to _me_, yo. Same thing."

"It is _not_ the same thing!" Rufus couldn't hide his contempt. "You can't possibly compare a Franz sonata with some – some rap shit about… 'pimping up my bitch', or something!"

Reno snorted with laughter. "_Pimping up my bitch!_ What would that even _mean_?"

Rufus' eyes narrowed. Assuming a bored expression, he replied, "Well - how should I know? I don't speak slum – _yo_."

Reno's laughter died a sudden death. "Too fucking right you don't, stuck-up little shit."

"You can't call me that!"

"Thought I just did."

Rufus stared at Reno, frankly frightened by the dark fury in the Turk's eyes. But this was the third time Reno had lost his temper and sworn at him, and Rufus knew that he had to do something about it. Making his voice as cold as he could manage, Rufus said, "You can't. You're my bodyguard. You _will_ behave appropriately."

"Or _what_?" snarled Reno.

"Or – I'll have to report your attitude to Veld and ask him to replace you with someone else. Lex is professional, or Rude –"

"_I'm_ fucking _professional_!"

"Can I quote you on that?"

"You arrogant f –" Reno caught himself. Rufus was right – Veld wouldn't stand for this, regardless of the provocation. But Gaia – the kid could be such a pain in the ass sometimes! Forcing a slow breath, Reno made himself say, "I'm sorry. You're right, I should be more…professional."

Rufus breathed out, his heart thumping with relief and a sudden sharpened awareness of his own power. "Right."

Reno's rebellious temperament wouldn't let him remain silent. Before he could think about it, he stated, "But you don't have to keep acting so f – uh – so superior all the time."

Rufus looked at Reno, seeming genuinely puzzled. "I'm not acting," he said. "I apologise if I insulted your taste in music, but you must see that it's inferior to what we heard tonight. Some things are just intrinsically _better_."

"And some _people_?"

"I didn't say that."

"You didn't need to."

Rufus scowled at Reno. "You have one huge chip on your shoulder, you know that?"

Reno looked out of the window. "Yeah? Is it divided into eight and shaped like a fuckin' pizza?"

Rufus let the expletive pass. He turned in his seat to look at Reno properly, but the Turk ignored him, staring out at the passing city with hard, angry eyes underscored by those sharp red tattoos bright as fresh wounds. Hair already beginning to spring back into its usual untamed spikes, tie wrenched loose the moment he'd entered the car and top two buttons undone, Reno looked, despite the expensive suit, exactly like the product of that otherworld below the plate that he was. Rufus was struck by a sudden pulse of sheer lust, unnerving as a mistimed heartbeat, that left him hot, shaken, short of air.

Turning to stare out of the opposite window, the president's son pretended to take no further notice of his bodyguard until they reached the Shin-Ra offices where he waited silently for Reno to escort him inside. Reno behaved with perfect propriety – holding open the car door, following Rufus up to his apartment, making the necessary checks: polite, quick, blank-faced. _Professional_.

Once he was alone in his room Rufus sat heavily on the bed, staring at the dark rectangle of the window, his reflection staring back, sullen, cold-eyed. _Stuck up little shit_.

Was that how everyone saw him?

"Sacha said he loved me," Rufus thought. "I suppose he hates me now. Reno despises me. Tseng… I'm not sure. He has to look after me –Veld knows I'm the future of the company. Rude, Lex, Kit, Dana, Freya – they're friendly enough, but I'm just a job to them. My father hates me. Lazard… he's _too_ friendly. He just wants Shin-Ra, I'm sure. He'd probably be delighted if Mallory Hyde killed me. So would Reno, as long as it didn't happen on his watch. Then he could go back to flying helicopters and going on missions with Rude."

Rufus picked at a flaw that marred the smooth perfection of the white cotton duvet cover, frowning. "Reno's stupid anyway. Stupid hair, stupid tattoos – knows nothing about music, or anything important. He thinks he's so clever – so cool. I hate him. At least Sacha understood… "

Pulling his PHS from his jacket pocket, Rufus called Reno. "I want the files on Sacha Domino," he said, keeping his voice businesslike. "Everything you found out today, and the old file, as soon as possible."

"Yes, Sir. They'll be in your inbox in ten minutes. Anything else, Sir?"

"No."

"Right." Reno ended the call before Rufus could, leaving Rufus disproportionately furious. Flinging the PHS onto the bed, Rufus opened his laptop and waited. It took Reno four minutes to send the information – professional as Rufus could possibly ask for. In the subject line Reno had typed _Sacha Domino: files_. There was no message, only the two attachments. Rufus stared at the colon. Since when had Reno ever been meticulous about punctuation?

"Think you're so smart, don't you?" Rufus murmured under his breath, opening the older file first. "But you wait until tomorrow – see who's laughing then."

x-x-x

"Fuck!" Reno swore fervently. "The stupid little fucker!" He stood helpless in the centre of Rufus' very tidy, very empty bedroom, rereading the note he'd found carefully folded and placed on the coffee table when he'd come to investigate after Rufus had failed to appear for breakfast. In Rufus' elegant handwriting on Shin-Ra headed notepaper, was written a brief message:

_Gone out: back later._

Reno sat down on Rufus' bed, thinking, fingers raking nervously through his hair. Fuck! If he called Veld, he'd be in deep, deep shit. If he didn't and something happened to the president's son, he'd most likely be dead. And the little bastard obviously thought it was some kind of a game! But how in hell had he managed to leave the building without alerting security?

Time to worry about that once he'd tracked Rufus down and made sure the kid was safe. Where would he go? Who did he know in Junon? Well - most of Junon society, of course – friends and acquaintances of his father…

_Relax_, Reno told himself. _Get a grip. You know _who_ he's gone to see. All you have to do is find out where he is._

Reno gave himself the morning to find Rufus. If he'd failed by midday, he was going to have to call Veld and admit that Rufus had evaded him.

Reno looked up as he heard scrabbling sounds coming from the closed door to the bathroom, followed by a muffled whine. Oh great. So the kid had left him on monster duty, on top of everything else. Fucking _perfect_.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. Chapter 21 coming soon.**


	21. Chapter 21

**Wow - most reviews ever for that last chapter! Thank you so much! **

**Hope this one isn't too angsty...**

**Warning: Rufus gets it on - at last! (m/m). I hope that isn't too much of a shock to anyone...**

* * *

**Midgar 21**

Rufus ran lightly up the wide marble steps of the Junon Music Academy, blond hair gleaming in the early morning sunlight. Wearing jeans, a black long-sleeved hooded top and black-on-black Thor trainers, his face half-shielded by dark sunglasses, Rufus looked as though he could have been a college student, albeit an unusually groomed and well-heeled one.

Once inside the building Rufus took off the sunglasses as he crossed the airy modern entrance hall with its black and white glass floor and huge abstract paintings, then climbed the stairs to the mezzanine gallery as though he knew exactly where he was going. Leaning on the steel balustrade, he looked down into the hall and waited, getting his bearings, feeling a heady sense of freedom. _I could be anyone_, he thought. _Just another student. I wonder if Reno's found the note yet?_

From behind him a female voice asked, "Has anyone ever told you, you look just like Rufus Shinra?"

Turning slowly Rufus saw a pretty girl with the bronzed skin and brown eyes of someone from the Costa region. She was carrying a violin case, and smiling at him.

"Yes," Rufus replied. "People say that sometimes. I think it's the hair."

"Although, now I can see you properly – you're not that like him. You must be older for a start? And taller?"

"I suppose…"

"Sorry! Listen to me, like some sad fangirl! I haven't seen you before though, have I? I'm Leah – violin and piano."

"Felix," said Rufus, thinking of a boy in the year above him at school so notoriously tone-deaf that he'd been banned from singing in assemblies and who, therefore, was unlikely to be a student at a music academy. Smiling at Leah in a way Reno might have done, he added, "But you can call me Rufus, if you like. Piano and violin."

"Oh! But then, why…?"

"I started late. Only arrived yesterday. Had appendicitis over the holiday."

"So – you'll be in my classes?"

"I expect so. Look, Leah, you wouldn't happen to know where I can find Sacha Domino do you? I know his brother, Seb. I've got a message for him."

"Our star cellist? He'll be in a practice room I expect. Shall I show you the way?"

"Thanks – but I don't want to keep you from class. If you could point me in the right direction?"

"Oh – yes. Well –"

Leah's instructions were clear, if lengthy. Rufus thanked her, and she gave him a wave as she walked away. "See you in class Felix!"

"See you…"

_And I'd like to see a Turk manage that any better_, Rufus thought, making straight for the practice rooms.

x-x-x

Reno sat in an expensive coffee shop across the square from the Junon Music Academy, and lit another cigarette. Sacha hadn't been in his apartment, so the academy seemed the most likely bet. He'd arrived just in time to watch from the shelter of a jeweller's doorway as Rufus had run up the steps into the building without a backward glance. Relieved that Rufus was alive, Reno had called Veld immediately and explained the situation. Veld had been angry, of course, but then he'd told Reno to tail Rufus and report, rather than bringing him in immediately. "Don't screw up," Veld had finished. "I'll contact Lex and tell him to sort security so it looks as though Rufus is still in the branch office. You stick to Rufus. Watch him. Don't let him see you. Don't let anything happen to him."

Fortunately, Sacha's apartment being on the harbour front, there was only really one way to exit the square to reach it. Rufus would probably leave the academy by a side door, but he'd pass this shop eventually, most likely with Sacha. If Sacha refused to talk to him, Reno thought Rufus would either go back to the Shin-Ra offices, or go to Sacha's apartment to try to see him there. In both cases, Reno would be ready for him.

x-x-x

Although it was faint, muffled by efficient soundproofing, Rufus recognised Sacha's playing from the end of the corridor. The rooms here were much more luxurious than the practice rooms at school; each one appeared to be equipped with a baby-grand piano and to have individual climate controls. The doors contained glass panels, but in Sacha's room blinds were drawn over them. Rufus waited until the end of the piece Sacha was playing before knocking at the door.

Sacha appeared in the doorway looking a little impatient. "Can I help you? Only I'm in the middle of –"

He froze, registering the identity of his visitor.

"Rufus."

"Hello, Sacha."

"I… I thought it would be some fan…"

"It _is_. I was at the concert last night. Sash – it was so good…"

Sacha's guarded expression didn't soften. "What do you want, Rufus?"

"To see you. I… was hoping we could talk about that day at school."

"There's nothing to say."

"There is. I… look – can we go somewhere? Or, can I come in?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

"You played the Franz, last night," Rufus said.

"Yes. I –"

"What?"

"I always used to imagine you and I would play that together."

"I know. So did I."

"Oh come on Rufus! When did you ever imagine yourself as anything but a soloist?"

"Only when I pictured us playing that piece."

"I wish you meant that."

"I do."

Sacha gave Rufus a searching look, his grey eyes serious. He said nothing, hesitating.

Rufus tried again. "Your pianist last night was good."

"Lily? Yes. She works hard, like me. But she doesn't have your natural talent. I don't suppose…"

"No. I don't play any more. Sacha – let me at least talk to you?"

At last, Sacha nodded. "I'm practising. But, if you want to wait…"

"All right."

Sacha's expression was full of doubt. "I'll be half an hour. I need to play this piece through."

"I'll wait here."

Rufus waited in the corridor, listening to Sacha's playing – a modern piece that sounded difficult. Most of the other practice rooms were empty so early in the morning, and Rufus wandered into one adjacent to Sacha's and sat on the piano stool. It was too low for him, and he adjusted it automatically. Opening the piano, Rufus found his fingers hovering over the keys, remembering. That adagio – the piano part wasn't technically difficult. He wondered if he could still play it; knew, somewhere deep inside himself, that he could.

_I said I wouldn't… _

But the decision of a heart-broken eleven-year old child suddenly seemed a foolish thing to abide by.

Rufus played a single note, the texture of smooth ivory as familiar as the feeling of running his hands through his hair or touching a finger to his lips. He played the opening bars without faltering. His fingers were less flexible than they used to be, but this piece was easy, and so imprinted in his mind and his body that he played without thinking, inside the music. He became aware that Sacha had stopped playing the new piece, but Rufus continued with the Franz adagio, unable to do anything else. Then Sacha joined in, the muted notes just audible through the soundproofed walls, almost on the edge of Rufus' consciousness – so faint that Rufus felt the sound was reaching him from very far away. Or very long ago, he thought… once - when this was who I was…

_I remember this feeling_, thought Rufus. _I used to feel like this. _

The final chord died softly into silence. Rufus sensed the lessening vibrations of the strings – ripples in air diminishing until there was only stillness.

Then sudden, shocking applause, and a voice – too loud, male – "Sacha – why in Gaia are you two practising in different rooms? Lily – best I've heard you play that yet. So much more _feeling_, if not perfectly timed. Lily..?"

Rufus got to his feet, dazed, and turned to find a tall, bespectacled man with blond hair and very blue eyes looking at him in confusion. After a moment's pause, the man asked, "Who're you? You're not a student here. _Why_ aren't you a student here?"

Sacha appeared in the doorway behind the older man. "Theo," he said, "this is – an old school friend. He came to visit."

"Does he have a name? Does he want a scholarship?"

Before Rufus could stop him, Sacha said, "His name's Rufus Shinra. And no – he'd have no time to take up a scholarship. Rufus, this is Theo. He's a pianist too – he plays for the JSO, and does some teaching here."

Rufus registered the name; remembered the file he'd read on the previous evening. Sacha's twenty-three year old lover – Theo Levin.

Theo looked from Rufus to Sacha. "Rufus _Shinra_? But you never told me you knew Rufus Shinra!"

"We were at school together."

"I know. I mean – I knew he was at your school. I didn't know you knew him. You never mentioned him."

"No. Well – he gave up music, and we didn't have much to do with each other after that. But he's in Junon, it seems, so he dropped in to see me."

"But – he didn't give up music! He just played –"

"I haven't played anything since I was eleven," Rufus said. "It's just – I know that piece so well…"

"You're a musician. You should be playing." The conviction in Theo's voice was so definite that Rufus could think of no reply.

"It's not that simple," Sacha said, surprising Rufus. "His father is President Shinra. He has – other things to do."

Theo looked from Sacha to Rufus, and nodded slowly. "I see. Well – I'll – leave you to catch up then. I'll see you later, Sacha?"

"Yes." Sacha laid a hand on Theo's arm, and Theo relaxed visibly. "It's all right," Sacha said. "It's just – if people knew he was here… You won't tell anyone, will you? It would make security difficult."

"No, I won't say anything."

"I'll call you later."

When Theo had gone, Sacha said, "That's a point, Rufus. Where is your security?"

"I got away. I wanted to talk to you on your own."

"Rufus – Theo's…"

"I know. I've read your file."

"I have a file?"

"Everyone who matters has a file. Where shall we go?"

"My apartment, I suppose. At least we'll be safe there. Rufus – even after all this time - you played that so well…"

"It did work, didn't it?"

"I always knew it would."

x-x-x

Crossing the square together, Rufus and Sacha made a striking sight. Reno watched them – watched passersby noticing them – a harassed looking young mother with a howling red-faced toddler struggling in her arms distracted for a moment, eyes on Rufus, her expression wistful. Stubbing out his cigarette, Reno shoved back his chair, left a ten-gil note on the table to pay for the coffee he'd managed to make last an hour, and followed them.

Rufus was far too easy to tail. Had the kid learned nothing from his time with the Turks? He never glanced behind him once as he walked beside Sacha along Gunners Lane towards the harbour. Reno could see the tension in both of them – Rufus' sudden laughter too bright as he responded to something Sacha had said, Sacha's answering smile quickly replaced by a doubtful glance. As soon as Reno was certain that they were making for Sacha's apartment, he darted into a side alley, sprinted ahead, climbed the fire escape he'd checked out that morning, and vaulted onto Sacha's third-floor balcony, where, fortunately, a large collection of potted plants made hiding himself easy. Unfortunately all the plants that weren't ferns seemed to be cacti with vicious-looking spines. Reno folded himself into a small space between three huge earthenware pots, sitting cross-legged on the warm metal of the balcony. He hoped Rufus and Sacha were going to be quick discussing whatever it was Rufus had gone to so much trouble to say: by midday the sun would be shining directly onto the balcony, which, like Shin-Ra's main Junon offices and Rufus' rooms, faced due west to make the most of the spectacular sunsets for which the city was famed. If Rufus was planning to stay for a long time, Reno was going to be fried.

Following Sacha up the echoing, concrete stairs to the heavy metal security door of his apartment, Rufus couldn't help admiring the easy grace of his former friend's movements – his slender body like a slightly softer version of Reno's. Opening the door, Sacha crossed the maple floor of a huge open-plan living area, and unlocked sliding doors onto a spacious balcony containing so many potted plants that it looked like a garden. Long white curtains shifted in a salt-laced sea breeze.

"Wow!" exclaimed Rufus, genuinely impressed despite having been raised on luxury. "This is nice. Look at that view!"

"Yes. Well I'm… kind of a celebrity now. The album sold a lot of copies."

"I know – I've got it. I suppose you didn't choose all the tracks?"

"No – only the Franz sonata, of course. It's a bit 'pop cello classics', right?"

"Only in terms of the tracks they picked – not in the performances. Didn't 'Classical Review' call your Occini concerto 'the definitive version'?"

"Huh! Yes." Sacha's expression was contemptuous. "Stupid hyperbole. I'm seventeen! And as if there could be a definitive version of any piece of music…"

"Still – it was meant as a compliment."

Sacha wondered over to a corner of the room where a cello case leaned against the wall next to a gleaming black upright piano. He picked up a pile of scores from the top of the piano, flicked through them, frowning, then set them down on a low coffee table. Turning to look at Rufus, he said, unsmiling, "The journalist just wanted to get into my pants. He made that very clear. I was equally clear that it wasn't going to happen, but he still wrote that review. I suppose he's hoping I'll be grateful." He shrugged. "Celebrity. You must get that all the time, I suppose."

Rufus was a little taken aback by how much more self-confident Sacha seemed. At school he'd always been so quiet, so closed in on himself. Now there was a restless energy about him that reminded Rufus of Reno.

"You've changed," he said, not sure if it was a compliment or an accusation.

"Yes. Well – I've grown up a lot."

"It… suits you, I think. You look good on it."

"So do you, Rufus, whatever 'it' is, in your case. But then, you always did. Do you have a girlfriend? I saw you in some trashy magazine one of the girls in my class was reading. With some society brunette – pretty – I forget the name."

"Felicity. No – that's over. I – I'm not seeing anyone at the moment."

"You want a beer, or something?"

"Thanks." Rufus tried not to look impressed. Here was quiet, shy Sacha, just seventeen, living on his own, seemingly at ease with his sexuality to the point of being able to laugh at the journalist who wanted him. Gaia – how much experience had Sacha managed to get in the last couple of years? Rufus felt naïve and left behind: Sacha suddenly seemed much closer to Reno's age and knowledge of the world than to his own.

Sacha walked over to the kitchen area, and opened a fridge concealed behind high-gloss black doors. "Have a seat," he called, returning with two bottles. He opened them with a silver bottle opener attached to a keyring with a fob shaped like a treble clef. He held it up, and made a face. "Kitsch, huh? Freebie from the record company. But it opens bottles."

"Bit kitsch, yes," agreed Rufus. "Sort of thing my bodyguard would probably appreciate – if it was in the shape of a gun, or a helicopter."

"Helicopter _would_ be cool though," Sacha said.

Outside on the balcony, Reno's anger at Rufus changed to amusement. _You tell him, Sacha_, Reno thought. _Choppers are cool anywhere, yo._

"How's Seb?" Rufus asked.

"Yeah – he's well. Studying law. Fighting off girls – but I'm sure you are too, aren't you?"

"I… don't… It's difficult. I've got security with me all the time."

"Don't see any."

"No. I gave - Reno - the slip. He'll be worried sick. Veld would skin him alive if anything happened to me."

"Reno?"

"My bodyguard."

"The guy who likes helicopters?"

"Yes."

Sacha looked at Rufus. "Right. So… why did you ditch him?"

"I wanted to see you. There are things I wanted to say. The Turks – they listen to everything – keep files on everything. I can't ever be alone! In fact…" Rufus stood and crossed to the balcony doors, closing them firmly. "Do you mind putting some music on?" he asked Sacha. "You can never be sure who's listening."

Reno cursed internally, while giving Rufus points for having learned something after all. He cursed again when some kind of orchestral music filtered through the fastened doors. When Rufus drew the white curtains across, Reno waited a few minutes, then abandoned the uncomfortable balcony, climbing down to the ground floor. The door to the apartment was solid metal, he recalled. The other windows were inaccessible. Nothing for it but to wait outside the door anyway. Losing track of Rufus was not an option.

Sacha sat in a white leather armchair at right angles to Rufus. Setting his bottle on the long, glass coffee table in front of him he asked, "You really think someone might be watching you now? What – with hidden cameras or something?"

Rufus nodded. "It's possible. If - Reno's worked out where I am…"

"That must be rough," Sacha said, shaking his head. "Gaia – I couldn't stand that. Theo wanted me to move in with him, but – I need space." Rufus nodded. There was a long silence between them, before Sacha asked, "So – what did you want to say?"

"Sorry, mostly. For how I behaved that day."

To Rufus' astonishment, Sacha only waved his hand in graceful dismissal. "Don't worry about it. I was stupid – talk about lousy timing! And I never had any real reason to think you were gay."

"Seb said you were pretty cut up about it," said Rufus, feeling a pang at Sacha's lack of emotion, although he knew he should have been relieved by it.

"I was at the time – but I was a kid then! That was before I'd even had a relationship!" He smiled and looked away. "In fact, you were my first kiss."

"You were mine." Rufus didn't add, _and my last_, but that was the truth of it, if you didn't count unsought kisses from girls, or those which were strictly for the purposes of propaganda, as had been the case with Felicity Lowe.

"Yeah – sorry," Sacha said. "That must have been something of a disappointment."

"No! I mean – no… I'm…"

"It _wasn't_?"

"No. Listen, Sacha – I haven't really had the chance to find out – not like you – but… I think I might have been wrong."

Sacha went still. Suddenly he looked like the frightened schoolboy he had been when Dominic used to pick on him – shut down, motionless. Without meeting Rufus' eyes, he asked, "Wrong about what?"

"When I said I wasn't like you. I…I… think I might be."

Sacha's head jerked up. "You can't be. You'd know by now. You're probably just curious."

"No." Rufus spoke quietly, feeling suddenly calm. "No. It doesn't work for me, with girls. Only…"

"Who?"

"No one. Just – not girls. I… I wish I hadn't pushed you away."

"And told me to fuck off." There was anger in Sacha's tone, but something different in his eyes – something infinitely fragile.

"I'm sorry," Rufus said again.

"I know. But what are you here for, Rufus? Because if it's just to say sorry, you have, okay? It's past. I accept your apology. If there's something else – say it. Otherwise, you should go."

Rufus suddenly understood that, physically innocent as he was, the control in this situation belonged to him entirely. That lost look in Sacha's grey eyes – he was the cause of it. He could leave now, and Sacha would be as he was – fragile, but mending. Or he could stay, and watch Sacha shatter again. It was such a powerful feeling – so different from the helplessness he felt in his futile, unspoken desire for Reno – that Rufus couldn't resist acting on the new certainty that he possessed the power to seduce.

"Perhaps there was something else," Rufus said. He leaned towards Sacha, who tensed, blinked, all but flinched. Rufus asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing…" whispered Sacha.

"Then why are you shaking?"

"I… I'm not…"

Rufus took Sacha's hand between his own. Sacha whispered, "Rufus!"

"Is it too late?" Rufus asked.

"Rufus…" There was something desperate in the look Sacha gave him that sent a bolt of raw energy through Rufus and set his heart racing.

Sacha shook his head, though, attempting a defence. "I can't! I'm with Theo. You know I'm with Theo. He's a good man – good for me. We've been together for months."

"Do you love him?"

"I think I… I mean, I – I'm…"

"No, then." Rufus touched Sacha's cheek. "Do you love me?"

"I can't let…"

Rufus kissed Sacha, who hesitated for less than a second before surrendering completely, eyes closed, trembling.

Rufus smiled. "Do you love me?" he asked again.

"Yes!" Sacha was out of the chair and on Rufus, pressing as close as he could get, his kiss hard and longing. "Yes," he repeated, his hands in Rufus' hair, his lips against Rufus' skin, "Yes – I love you, Rufus Shinra. I always did. But – you'll break my heart again – I know you will. And it will be my own fault for letting you."

"Shh," said Rufus, his mouth on Sacha's again. "Show me what to do."

Sacha had no means of resisting such an order. From the first time he'd heard him play - the first time he'd _watched_ him play - Rufus had captivated him entirely. Sacha's failing conscience fluttered for a moment at the borders of his consciousness before being lured away, inevitably, by the brilliance of Rufus Shinra's flame.

x-x-x

The rough concrete steps of the apartment block were doubtless fashionably industrial-modern, but they were even more uncomfortable to sit on than the metal balcony had been. Reno had phoned Veld and reported, receiving instructions to wait for Rufus without intervening, but to take him straight back to the Junon branch offices the moment he emerged from Sacha's apartment. Trouble was, that call had been three hours ago, and Rufus hadn't appeared yet. Reno was bored and increasingly angry. Gaia – what could the kid have to talk about that was taking this long? Unless they were talking music – in which case, Shiva forbid, Reno suspected he'd be sitting in the comfortless hallway all night.

After four hours Reno was forced to leave the building to piss, finding an alleyway that still afforded him a view of the entrance of Sacha's apartment block, before hurrying back inside.

After seven hours he went back out, ordered Wutaian takeout, a bottle of water and three coffees. He badly wanted a beer, but _on duty_ meant no alcohol - and he was down to his last cigarette. He met the delivery boy on the street opposite Sacha's building, took his food back up to Sacha's floor, and ate stir-fried chocobo and Da Chao noodles sitting on the floor with his back against the door, no longer caring if Rufus walked out and tripped right over him. When he'd finished the meal and two of the coffees, he called Veld again, but received the same instructions as before.

Playing _Cross Chocobos_ on his PHS had lost its fascination after the first couple of hours. Besides, he had to keep some charge in the damn thing, in case Veld – or Rufus – called. Reno couldn't call Rufus – the kid knew perfectly well that his PHS could be traced, and had left it on the coffee table next to the note announcing his departure.

Two hours later Reno was back in the alley, thinking that three coffees might have been two too many. About to return to his brain-numbing vigil, Reno saw the low light of the setting sun illuminating blond hair, and at first he thought it was Rufus, then, for just a second, Lazard. Then he took in the details – a similarly slender frame, but too tall for Rufus, a fine-featured, rather anxious face - pleasant-looking but lacking anything like Rufus' perfect symmetry - narrow glasses. Theo Levin – Sacha's partner.

_Thank Gaia!_ thought Reno. _Now Sacha will open the door, and I'll have an excuse to get Rufus out. _

But Theo hesitated outside the building. _Go in!_ Reno willed.

Looking at his phone, Theo glanced at the door, then walked past, making his way to the front of the block. _Why?_ Did Theo know that Sacha was with someone? Did he know that it was _Rufus_? Reno took a risk and followed him.

Theo crossed the wide road, and leaned back against the metal barrier, his back to the ocean and the flaming orange-gold of the sunset. He looked up at Sacha's balcony. Despite the fact that the sun was behind him and his features shadowed, Reno could see the stricken expression that crossed his face as he registered the drawn curtains. Looking down at his phone again, Theo appeared to be reading messages. He stood still for a long moment, considering, thumb hovering over the keys. He sighed, and put the phone back into his pocket, his eyes back on Sacha's balcony.

_No,_ thought Reno – _No, you're wrong. Go in! They're probably – listening to concertos or something. Rufus isn't…_

Theo Levin thrust his hands into the pockets of his jacket and turned to look out over the ocean. Reno frowned. _No. I'd've known. Be a hell of a blind spot, if I'm wrong! But – in Costa – he danced with girls. I saw him kissing a girl. Or – I saw a girl kissing him. And this last year – all the parties – that Felicity girl he was seeing… But - the intel on Felicity did say he never actually… and the way he looked at Sacha last night… _

_ Fuck. That poor kid. If the President finds out…_

Theo Levin took off his glasses and pressed two fingers against the inner corners of his eyes. He stood still for a moment, head bowed, then replaced his glasses and walked away without looking at Sacha's building again.

_It could be nothing,_ Reno thought, his own eyes on the closed curtains. _Rufus is just worried about being watched – and he's right to be. I could be jumping to conclusions as much as Levin is. Rufus has never shown that much interest in girls, and none in boys that I've seen. All this could just be about the music…_

But Reno knew he was looking for excuses. And when that happened, it meant that his gut feeling was almost always right. _I've been stupid_, he thought. _All those times I made comments about girls and he just agreed vaguely or changed the subject. And I thought he was just a late starter, when all the time… _

Another uncomfortable thought struck Reno then. _So – do Veld and Tseng already know? Or do they suspect? And if so – what the hell did Tseng mean when he said, "He looks up to you?" He can't have been implying anything, can he? Fuck – no! But they can't expect me to… No. No – Rufus thinks I'm ignorant and uneducated and unprofessional. He likes Sacha – that's clear. So – what exactly is going on in there? Is Levin right to be worried, after all?_

Reno walked back to the main entrance of Sacha's building and climbed the stairs wearily. He suspected he was going to be sitting outside the apartment for a very long time.

x-x-x

For the first time in his life Rufus woke up in someone else's bed. Dawn light was beginning to filter through the slats of the wooden shutters closed over the window of Sacha's bedroom. Sacha was still sleeping, face down on the white pillow. Rufus wondered what Reno was doing – whether he was in trouble with Veld – whether he was close by. He assumed that Reno knew where he was by now, or someone would have appeared at the door to question Sacha.

Leaning over to kiss the back of Sacha's neck, Rufus ran his fingers over the tattooed line of music between his shoulder blades. Having a tattoo seemed completely out of character for Sacha – or, at least, for the Sacha Rufus had known at school. Last night Rufus had been too caught up in passion and new sensations to look at the tattoo properly – he'd assumed it was something generic, or the famous opening bars of the Gaia symphony – but now, as he pressed his lips against Sacha's pale, smooth skin, he paused to read it, and realised what it was.

"Oh – Sacha…"

"Rufus?" Still half-dazed by sleep, Sacha tried to turn over, but Rufus' hand was heavy on the small of his back and held him still.

"When did you get this?"

"What?"

"The tattoo?"

"Oh – not long after we left school."

Rufus took his hand away, and asked, "You didn't hate me?"

Sacha turned to lie on his back, looking up at Rufus, not quite smiling. "I _did_ hate you. Just not enough to make it stop."

Rufus thought of Reno – tried to forget that he had.

"I never dreamed you'd keep it…"

"I remembered every note of it. It's beautiful. I wanted to make it into something but – well. You're the composer."

"It was only an idea…"

"I know. But – you wrote it for me."

"Yes." Rufus brushed Sacha's dark, dishevelled hair out of his eyes and kissed him.

Sacha smiled. "Dominic said it was a poem for your boyfriend. He was closer than he knew."

"Yes. A tune for my lover."

Sacha sighed. "I suppose – we can't be together."

"Not officially, no."

"I feel so bad for Theo. I like him so much."

Rufus leaned on one elbow, frowning. "What do you mean?"

"He'll be so upset. I've never finished a real relationship before. I mean – I never had a real relationship before Theo."

"You can't finish with him!"

"What do you mean, Rufus? I can't stay with him. I love _you_!"

"But nothing's changed. You always loved me."

"Yes, but I never thought… _this!_ This changes everything. With Theo I told myself I would come to love him in time. He was so kind…"

"_Is_. Sacha – no one can find out about this. If you break up with Theo now – if we start spending time together – it will take the Turks about two seconds to work it out."

"But – you've been here all night. Don't you think they'll work it out anyway?"

"No. This last year – ever since I realised that you were right about me all along – I've been doing nothing but chatting up girls, flirting with girls. I even dated that Felicity for a while."

"But you didn't sleep with her?"

"No. We mostly went out a lot, to movies, the theatre, restaurants." Rufus smiled, eyes cast down. "Anywhere we couldn't be alone. We kissed and held hands. She wrote me these terrible poems. I mean – really, really bad."

"I suppose you broke her heart?"

"Of course not. There was never anything in it. We parted friends. I wrote her a poem in return."

"A parody, of course?"

"Of course. But she didn't know that. It was a very romantic break up. I'm sure she had a great time telling all her friends about it."

Sacha bit his lip, frowning. "You don't even mean to be cruel, do you Rufus? You don't know you're doing it!" Rufus started to reply, but Sacha's suddenly fierce expression stopped him. "How do you know she didn't cry herself to sleep for weeks? How do you know you didn't leave her just – not able to… not able to catch her breath, or stop it from hurting?" Sacha turned onto his side, facing away from Rufus. His voice was oddly flat as he tried to explain: "You don't know what it's like when – when you're trapped with it – like the whole world has become this cage – and the thing that's hurting you is in there with you, and you can't get away from it because it's not even just in the cage with you – it's inside you – and you just want to die."

"Sacha! Sash! Don't! It wasn't like that – honestly, she was fine with it. I chose her because I knew she would be. She's been out with about five other guys since then – including Freddy. You know Freddy. They're pretty much made for each other." When Sacha didn't reply Rufus touched his shoulder, gently. "It – it wasn't like that with you. I felt guilty as soon as I pushed you away. I never meant… Please say you never wanted to die."

Sacha turned back to look at Rufus, his expression serious, but disconcertingly calm. "If it hadn't been for what it would have done to Dad and Seb and Fran…"

"I – didn't know."

"How could you? We never spoke to each other again. But I got better. I came here, and met Theo. He - he looks… I think he looks a bit like you. He plays well. I sometimes used to go into another room while he was playing and imagine it was you – imagine that if I walked back in it would be you there instead of him, and you'd turn and smile at me as if that day never happened… He doesn't deserve to be treated like that. I shouldn't have called _you_ cruel, when I treated him like that. I thought it might work." Sacha shook his head. "But it won't, not now. You can't ask me to stay with him, Rufus. To lie to him like that. I couldn't."

"You have to. If you don't, and my father finds out, I think he'll disown me – give the company to Lazard."

Just the sound of Lazard's name was enough to make Sacha flinch, but he said, "Wouldn't that be a good thing, though? If Lazard could run Shin-Ra – then you'd be free! You could take up music again – come here – be with me."

Rufus ran one hand through Sacha's dark hair, suddenly feeling as though he were the older of the two. "Sash – no wonder your father didn't stand a chance! You don't have a political bone in your body, do you? I'm the legitimate heir to Shin-Ra. In a scenario like that, you can't think Lazard would let me live?"

"Your father let mine live."

"Yes – because he's a useful figurehead! I'd only be a threat to Lazard."

"But – he's your brother."

"_Half_ brother. He's not even a Shinra. You have to do this for me, Sash – stay with Theo. We have to be so careful. I'll try to come – when I can. I can bring girls to your concerts – meet you publically afterwards – meet you here later. But it won't be often. Don't you see – Theo is the perfect cover?"

"No. I won't use him like that. Not even for you, Rufus. The best I can do is wait for a while. I'll – try to let it end naturally. If we don't meet until it's over, then it won't be so bad."

"All right. But you know it has to stay secret. Secret from everyone. You can't tell anyone – not even Seb. You can't hint – can't talk about me, except in terms of an old school friend who's rediscovered his interest in music. Tell Seb we made up and that's it."

"I get it. Gaia! – I never so much as spoke your name to Theo." He gave a small, wary smile, and added, "_You_ know I can keep secrets."

Rufus found that he had forgiven Sacha for not telling him about Lazard. "I was so angry about that," he said. "I suppose I saw it as a betrayal. But you – you thought you were protecting me, didn't you?"

"Yes. And I will Rufus. I won't tell anyone - ever."

Rufus smiled. "I know. Let me see my tune again?"

Sacha rolled onto his front, and Rufus traced his finger over the notes on the stave, hearing the tune in his head – already subconsciously aware of how it could be developed. He found himself entranced by the tattoo – by the possessiveness of it – the way it marked Sacha as _his_. So different from anything Reno would want or allow – Reno who rebelled at any hint of being controlled in the slightest of ways – who virtually flinched if Rufus so much as said _this is my bodyguard. _

"You really do love me, don't you?" he realised.

"Of course. Always."

"You know – you're the only one. I think my mother may have loved me – but she loved the idea of me more than the reality. My nurse was… attached to me, I think… but that was her job. The Turks… I'm just a job to them too. My father doesn't even pretend to love me – he loves Lazard." He laughed. "Dark Nation adores me. But she's a guard hound."

Sacha turned over again, and smiled, sadly. "What about you, Rufus? Who is it you love?"

"You!"

"No. You like the fact that I love you. You want me. But if you had someone written into your skin, it wouldn't be me, would it? Things are never that simple. I think I was the one, for Theo. You're it, for me. But you… Tell me about him, Rufus."

"Who? What do you mean?"

"I'll keep secrets for you, but don't lie to me. I mean Reno."

Rufus couldn't hide his shock – knew there was no point trying. "How did you know?"

"The way you say his name. It's obvious. It's… You can't stop talking about him."

"But I haven't –"

"Yes. You have. I know he's a Turk, he's older than you, although not by that much, he has a liking for flashy accessories, and with a name like Reno, I'm guessing he was born in the slums. He flies helicopters - he loves flying – he's a good street fighter, and he drives you crazy. You know he's going to get into trouble for letting you run off, and half of you is pleased about that, but half is worried."

"Have I really said all that?"

"Yes, yesterday and last night. And every time you say his name there's this pause…"

"Is there?" Rufus frowned. "I don't know why. I'll have to watch that."

"You're in love with him."

"No! Not – not love. I just –"

"What?"

"I don't know. I just can't stop thinking… I suppose _obsession_ would be a better word."

"Hmm." Sacha sounded dubious. "He's the one you really want, anyway. I suppose he's very good-looking?"

"_You're_ very good looking." Rufus tried to kiss Sacha, who turned his head aside. "Tell me about Reno."

Rufus sighed. "He's... well – he's a Turk, like you said. He's good at fighting and spying, but he won't take orders without arguing. And he hates everything I like. He doesn't get music at all – likes some stupid stuff they play in clubs – _Hype Renegade_ or something."

Sacha shook his head smiling. "Rufus – you're _such_ a snob! _Hyped Hype Renegade_. It's good. You should listen to it sometime."

"Really? You know it?"

"Before Theo, I spent quite a bit of time in clubs… But you were telling me about Reno. So – he was born in the slums?"

"Yes. And he looks it. He has slum hair – all bright red spikes – can you imagine? And tattoos, on his face, like this –" Rufus indicated twin sweeping lines beneath his eyes. "Bright red, too. It ought to look so trashy! And, you know the Turks' uniform?"

Sacha nodded. "Sharp suits. Dark blue."

"Right. Only – the way he wears his – it should make him look a total mess. He almost never wears a tie – hates it when he has to – always has his shirt un-tucked and half undone – creased to hell. Gaia - he should look like such a slob!"

"Sounds like your opposite," Sacha commented. "I've never seen you look less than perfect in anything you wear. But – Reno still looks good, in spite of all that?"

"He looks… fucking fantastic. "He's just…" Rufus shook his head.

"How I feel," Sacha told him. "About you."

"But, me too," Rufus said earnestly. "About you! You're so much better than him. Better for me – better suited. He's straight anyway. But even if he weren't – even if he was interested in me – it wouldn't work. He makes me so angry sometimes – his chippy attitude – his temper –"

"Your superior attitude – _your_ temper. But that's _why_, you see?"

"He wouldn't be any good for me."

"No. Well, when was anyone ever addicted to something that was good for them? Theo's good for me. And I like him – so much! But when I'm with you, I just feel - alive!"

"But I do, with you." Rufus smiled. "Last night –"

"Hm. But it's not the same."

"And, talking of addiction, Reno smokes. All the time. I _hate _that. In anyone else…"

"Yes. But in him it's sexy?"

"So damn sexy…" Rufus kissed Sacha, who let him, this time. "I don't want to talk about him. I want _you_. Now. Again."

And although he knew perfectly well that at least part of Rufus' sudden arousal was caused by thinking about Reno, Sacha still gave himself to Rufus' desire - willingly – compulsively – irresistibly drawn.

x-x-x

Reno had been on some boring stakeouts in his career, and his year on the streets of the slums had made him adept at sleeping in uncomfortable places, but he couldn't remember a time when he'd been this sore and this bored. He'd phoned Veld just after midnight, and the Director, somehow detecting the impatience in his tone despite Reno's attempts to hide it, had snapped at him, "You stay there and you don't move. Don't even think about calling the office for supplies – I don't want anyone knowing about this. The fewer people know, the less likely the president is to find out. Thank Gaia he's away for the week. Wait for Rufus, and get him back to the branch offices as quickly and quietly as possible. Don't let anyone see him entering the building. Lex is already on it – he'll edit Rufus out of the camera footage from the lobby and the elevators once you're inside. Somehow Rufus managed to hack the system – he's been registering as in his apartment the whole time. Find out how he did that, and what he's been up to. If Sacha Domino, or anyone else, seems likely to be a problem, let me know immediately. We may have to take action."

Reno had spent the night sitting across Sacha's deep doorsill, back pressed against the jamb on one side, feet up on the other. Even if he'd fallen asleep in that position, no one would have been able to enter or exit the apartment without him being aware of it. The sill was concrete – cold and uncomfortable. Reno doubted whether he'd managed more than an hour's sleep all together – and even that had been in five-minute dozes – so he was not in the best of moods when Rufus opened the door and said cheerfully, "Ah – there you are. I thought you'd be out here somewhere. Hope you got some sleep. I suppose we'd better be heading back to the office."

Rufus was holding the door wide open, making sure that Reno could see the duvet and pillow on the couch in the living room. Reno took one look at Rufus' face – at Sacha, standing behind him, trying to look nonchalant – leapt to his feet ignoring the aches in his back and legs, and shoved Rufus back into the apartment, slamming the heavy door behind him.

"Would say _nice try_, kid – but it wasn't even that. Do you think I'm fuckin' stupid?"

"What're you talking ab-"

"Don't bother." Reno looked at Sacha, who was watching him warily. "_You_ have some kinda line you're gonna try an' feed me now? Do I have to go into the bedroom and see for myself?"

Sacha said nothing, but his guilty glance at Rufus was enough confirmation, if any were needed. Rufus glared at Reno, his colour high, his expression a mix of fury and embarrassment. "This has nothing to do with you!" he said. "How dare you come in here – uninvited – and –"

"Shut up and sit down," Reno ordered. "I thought you were cleverer than this! Don't you know what Veld will do to Sacha if he thinks he's a security risk?"

Rufus' flushed cheeks paled instantly. "No," he said. "Sacha isn't a risk! He'd never say anything – I trust him completely."

"Yeah? Well, sorry, kid, but _your_ trust is not the issue." Reno looked at Sacha. "You too. Sit down. I can't believe you've both been this stupid."

Sacha shook his head. "I don't care," he said, his voice quiet, but steady. "It doesn't matter. It was worth it."

"Really?" Reno asked, gesturing impatiently to the couch. Sacha moved the duvet and pillow to the armchair, and sat on the couch, Rufus, beside him, still scowling at Reno. "Was it worth risking Theo Levin's life for?"

Sacha stared at Reno. "_What?_ This has nothing to do with Theo!"

"Theo was here last night. I'm assuming he met Rufus yesterday?"

"Yes – for about two minutes! But – what do you mean he was here? He'd've come up." Sacha was frightened now – but he was doing a good job of trying to hide it, Reno had to admit.

"He went round to the front of the building. He must've guessed that Rufus was here. He saw the curtains were closed, and he didn't look happy about it," Reno explained. "He's the only witness that Rufus was here. That makes him a possible security threat."

"We talked about this," Rufus said. "Sacha understands how it has to be. He's not going to split with Theo – not yet, anyway."

"Good." Reno looked at Sacha. "You have to make him believe that nothing happened. If he suspects – if he tells anyone – if he goes to the press…"

"Theo wouldn't do that! Even if he knew the truth – he's not like that!"

Reno shook his head. "People do stupid things when they're hurt. Like – he gets drunk at some party – someone mentions Shin-Ra – he's: 'I could tell you something about Rufus Shinra' – and we have a problem. Seen it too many times. You call him – now. You make him believe that nothing happened."

Sacha nodded, his face completely white. "What – what if he doesn't believe me?"

"_Make_ him believe you."

Sacha went to fetch his phoe. Rufus wouldn't look at Reno.

Sacha hesitated, standing by the balcony doors, the phone in his hand. He glanced at Reno. "You want me to do it here?"

"I need to believe it, too, kid."

"Right. All right." Sacha took a long breath. Rufus turned to look at him, but he shook his head. "Please, Rufus – don't watch me."

Rufus nodded, got up and went to the opposite side of the room. He picked up a score from the coffee table, rested it on top of the piano, and pretended to read it. Behind him Rufus could hear Sacha's voice, sounding surprisingly natural as he lied to his lover.

"Theo – hi, it's me. Sorry I forgot to phone – Rufus stayed over. Yes – he's just gone. He's started playing the piano again – I never thought he would. Isn't that – Yes. - _What?_" Sacha listened to Theo's reply, his expression a mixture of guilt and sorrow, but when he responded his voice was convincingly incredulous as he exclaimed, "No! No – of course not! That's stupid. Rufus isn't even –"

Theo's voice was just audible at the other end of the phone – tense, strained – someone struggling to be reasonable.

"No," Sacha said, again. "No – you're wrong. What? Well – yes – but that's because –"

Sacha listened again. "Theo – Rufus wanted to see me. Something happened when we were at school – I'll tell you about it later. He got away from his security – that's why the curtains were closed – in case he was being followed. It's true! They watch everything he does. – From the balcony? – Yes, but he's _not_! And even if he was – do you honestly think I'd… Look – I'll come over. Yes, now. Don't worry – it's all right. Okay – see you in about half an hour. Yes. Yeah – yeah, I do - you _know_ I do. - Me too. – Yes. Bye."

Sacha looked at Reno, his eyes hard. "_Happy_?"

"He buy it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Keep it that way, and no one has to get hurt.

Sacha sat heavily on the couch and put his head in his hands. "Fuck. Poor Theo."

Rufus stood beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Sacha – I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come."

Sacha looked up at him, and managed a shaky smile. "Don't say that! I don't regret it."

Reno moved to the door. "You've got five minutes. Rufus – after that we _have_ to get back."

"All right."

Reno closed the door behind him.

x-x-x

When Rufus appeared, exactly five minutes later, he was expecting fireworks from Reno, but the Turk said nothing except, "Let's go."

Rufus put on his sunglasses and pulled up the hood of his top. Neither Rufus nor Reno spoke until they reached the Shin-Ra branch office, where Reno said, "I'll distract the guard on the desk. You go straight in and up to your apartment. Lex is on the cameras."

Rufus nodded, ducking into the alley adjacent to the building.

Reno strolled into the lobby and called to the guard, "Hey, Lenny. Come out here."

Lenny did as the Turk asked, and spent five minutes considering Reno's invented concerns about the possibility of sniper fire from the roof of a new building across the street. Rufus slipped through the front door unnoticed, and reached his rooms without incident. Dark Nation wasn't there – Reno must have found someone to look after her.

Ten minutes later, Reno knocked on the door.

Rufus opened it, then sat on the bed, staring out of the window as though Reno wasn't there. There was a long silence. At last, Rufus said, "Well? Isn't this where I get the lecture?"

"You need to tell me how you hacked the system."

Rufus shrugged. "I'm good with computers. All that time in the labs – Hojo wouldn't let me do any real work – so I –" Rufus couldn't help a hard little laugh – "I made my own entertainment."

"Right. And all that stuff with Felicity Lowe last year – that was all a smokescreen?"

"Of course. If it was real, do you think I'd've chosen _her_?"

Reno didn't answer. Rufus tossed his head. "_You_ fell for it, anyway!"

"Yeah, I did. So why risk it all now?"

Rufus turned to look at Reno, and found that the past night had not been any kind of a cure. "I – I thought I'd done enough to make you believe I was… that I wasn't…"

"I almost did. If Theo hadn't come along, I might've believed it."

Rufus' voice lacked all his usual confidence as he asked, "Do you have to tell them – about me? If you do, they'll tell my father, won't they?"

Reno nodded. "Probably."

"And Theo. No one else knows about Theo. Couldn't you just forget you ever saw him?"

Reno found that seeing Rufus like this made him nervous. He was used to the boy's arrogance – his self-possession. Incredulous, he asked, "You do get how much trouble I could be in over all this shit, right?"

"I know. All right – just Theo then. I – I think I owe Sacha that much."

It was such an unexpectedly selfless sentiment from Rufus, that before he could think it through, Reno found himself saying, "Okay, kid. I'll keep quiet about Theo. I think you're right – I don't think he'll talk. And your friend's a good liar. I was impressed."

"He never used to be a good liar," Rufus said bitterly. "I've taught him that."

Reno watched Rufus, considering. "Right, Kid," he said, finally, "Here's what I'll do. If they ask, I'll say I don't know. I'll say I didn't see any evidence – which is almost true. I'll say that as far as I know you spent the whole time playing music or whatever. But – if you're going to do this – keep it secret from everyone – then you can't pull anything like that again. It'll mean living like this – lying all the time. You can't risk seeing any one."

Rufus nodded, his eyes on the floor. "I know." He looked up at Reno, and his expression was both resigned and determined. "I know. It's how it has to be."

"And you know you can't see Sacha again, don't you?" Reno asked.

"Yes. Not for a long time."

"Not ever! Not if you don't want your father to find out."

Rufus' tone was frighteningly cold as he replied. "Yes – of course. But my father won't _live_ forever. And when he's dead, and I'm president – _then_ I'll be able to do whatever the hell I like."

* * *

**Thank you for reading.**


	22. Chapter 22

**Well - it's been a while, and all I can bring you this time is angst. The next chapter will contain action. **

**The piece Rufus plays is shamelessly stolen. It's Chopin's 'Raindrop' prelude. **

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and all those who are still reading. **

* * *

**Chapter 22**

Rufus stood, closing the small upright _Sylph_ piano he'd been playing for the last five minutes. "Hmm," he said, nodding, "the touch is a little on the heavy side, but that's better than too light. This one will do."

Lex looked at him, surprised. His mind replayed a scene - a morning, years ago, when he'd been waiting to escort Rufus' mother to some function. Lex remembered Lucia sitting at her writing desk, her pale hair almost luminous in the rare sunlight. There had been a few more sunny days in Midgar back then…

Lucia looked up from reading an email on her PHS, and laughed. "Julius has forwarded a message from Rufus' headmaster." Apparently Rufus dragged poor Mr. Lloyd – his music teacher - all over Midgar looking for a suitable piano, and ended up ordering it from a specialist piano-makers in Kalm!"

Then she sighed. "I was never a great actress," she said, and when Lex opened his mouth to contradict her she held up a slender hand. Diamonds fractured sunlight on the bracelet she always wore – the one Julius had presented her with on the day she'd presented _him_ with his son and heir.

"I _wasn't_. I was a reasonable actress – good sometimes. Never great. But Rufus… He has a genuine talent, I think. He knows exactly what he wants – and that's something he got from his father. I worry about him, Lex – about what he will have to become. He's such a perfectionist already, and his life is going to have to involve so many compromises. He wants to be a pianist, but…" She shook her head, and stood gracefully, smoothing down the silk of her grape-coloured shift dress. Brilliant spots of diamond-reflected light danced around the walls and the ceiling as she moved. "Still – let him practise while he can. It seems to make him happy. We should go."

Lex remembered a sudden impulse to catch her hand, to ask her, "Are _you_ happy?" But he was a Turk, and she was his employer's wife, and of course he had remained professionally silent, escorting her from the room.

Now – ten years later - Lex glanced around the small basement music shop and asked Rufus, "You're sure? We can keep looking."

Rufus ran a hand over the glossy black paint of his chosen piano – one of only three traditional pianos in the shop, and raised an eyebrow, curious. "Do you play?"

"Me? No, not a note. It's just – I remember your mother once told me that you took a long time to chose your piano, when you were at school."

"Did she?" Rufus smiled, shaking his head. "Yes – I was… probably unbearably precious about the whole thing. No – this one will be fine. It's not perfect – but it's better than those…" He waved a dismissive hand in the direction of the electronic pianos prominently displayed in the centre of the store. "I can work with this one. It's not for performance – just composition. Put it on my account and arrange to have it delivered today. Oh – and I'll need manuscript paper – lots of that – and that list of sheet music I gave you. Have them bring the piano straight to my rooms."

"Of course, Sir." Lex turned away quickly to hide a smile at Rufus' automatic air of authority. Perhaps the sixteen-year-old Rufus wasn't quite as far removed from his six-year-old self as he might like to imagine. But he'd clearly learned to compromise to some extent, which, Lex supposed, was a sign of maturity. He wondered what other compromises the boy had already had to make. Carefully he asked, "This – this renewed interest in music. Is it because of what happened yesterday?"

Rufus flushed like his mother used to, Lex thought – a sudden stain of red high on his cheeks. Their gestures were alike, too – Rufus' automatic impulse to run his hand through his hair at moments of stress or embarrassment reminded Lex of the way Lucia's hand had always moved to the base of her throat at such times. Lex remembered a ball – some event for Shin-Ra's most favoured suppliers and customers – Lucia the perfect hostess, as ever, moving through the crowds, smiling, exchanging well-chosen and meaningless words, appearing completely engaged – actually sleep-walking through the role that had become her life. And then she had looked up and her eyes had met those of a SOLDIER second class on the other side of the room. No smile – no acknowledgement – only that same blush, her hand flying to her throat. Lex had known at that moment – recognised the man. Lee Gale. He'd appeared at two or three previous events. From that day Lex had observed, and drawn conclusions, and never said a word about it to Veld. And when, months later, Veld had presented him with photos, and asked whether he'd ever suspected anything, Lex had lied and said no – not a thing. It was the only lie he'd ever told Veld – which was why Veld had believed him.

Rufus composed himself quickly, and made himself meet Lex's enquiring gaze, the colour already fading from his cheeks. "Yes," he said. "It was an inspiring concert. But - if we could finish here?" He glanced meaningfully in the direction of the shopkeeper – a small, portly man who had informed them almost as soon as they'd entered the shop that his main musical passion was military marching bands. Lex nodded, and called the man over to place the order. The shopkeeper was clearly ecstatic. "Thank you for your custom, Sir," he said to Rufus. "I'm a great admirer of what your father has done here in Junon. The military parades – spectacular! The SOLDIER passing out ceremonies!"

"Yes," replied Rufus, with his mother's easy, charming smile. "My father enjoys extravagant displays."

"And the music! I've always said nothing beats a good brass band."

"Ah, yes," said Rufus. "Well – my father always did have a taste for brass, of course." He turned away, leaving the delighted shopkeeper mentally rehearsing the way he would slip the anecdote into his lunchtime conversation with Bernie and Carter from the materia shop next door. Lex ushered Rufus into the back seat of the waiting car, and Rude pulled smoothly away from the kerbside.

"I didn't realise that the President liked brass bands," Lex said, by way of conversation. It was clear that Rufus didn't want to discuss Sacha Domino, and, until Lex heard from Veld, he wasn't about to push for information.

"Huh! I don't know whether he does or not. He likes things loud and dramatic though – Verano's operas, that kind of stuff – so I wouldn't be surprised. But I never said he _did _like brass bands – just – brass. Loud suits with shiny buttons, tacky décor –" Rufus bit back the urge to add _Lazard's mother_, but he thought it with secret satisfaction. "It's all so – _crass._"

When Lex didn't comment, Rufus tossed his head irritably, and glared at the back of Rude's head. "Where's Reno?" he asked.

"Gone to Midgar to report to Veld," Rude replied, his tone entirely neutral.

Rufus didn't want to ask, but he found that he couldn't stop himself. Affecting boredom he said, "Oh, really? Will he be gone long?"

"That depends," Lex told him. "He's in trouble because you got past security – we all are – but he was on duty when it happened. Veld might decide to reassign him."

Rufus was unprepared for the strength of his body's reaction to that possibility. For one awful moment he thought he was going to cry. Since that was impossible, he took refuge in arrogance. "Well – he should do his job better. The security system was ridiculously easy to hack – a child could have done it."

_A child_ did! Lex thought. _But it wasn't easy. I don't think another sixteen-year-old on the planet could have done it. It was extraordinary. Oh Lucia – your son! _

Her words sounded clear in his mind. "I worry about him, Lex. About what he will have to become."

x-x-x

Reno leaned against the glass wall of the elevator wearily, not bothering to stifle a yawn in front of Kit. He'd been annoyed when Veld had sent Kit to pick him up with orders not to let him fly after his all-night vigil on Sacha Domino's doorstep – but, he had to admit, it had been a good call. He'd managed a couple of hours sleep in the helicopter, the thrum of the rotors irresistibly soporific in his exhausted state, but he was still far from being at his sharpest, and he dreaded the impending meeting with Veld all the more because of that. Kit, who hadn't been told anything about Rufus' adventures in Junon, said cheerfully, "Gaia, Reno, you look terrible!"

"Thanks," replied Reno, too tired to come up with anything wittier. "Nothing coffee and sleep won't fix. Don't know why the boss insisted on this face-to-face update."

"He's probably bored," Kit guessed. "With the President, Honoria and Lazard on safari in Mideel for the week and almost all the department with them, he's left holding the fort here with me and Tseng. Maybe he's just missing you, Reno?"

Reno snorted. "Yeah – likely. Anything new on the Mallory Hyde case?"

"Nothing. Wherever he's gone to ground, he's well hidden." Kit laughed. "Maybe he's in Mideel? Honoria's supposed to be a dead shot with a hunting rifle – perhaps she'll do our job for us, and bag us a Hyde?"

"Doesn't sound like Lazard's kind of holiday," Reno observed. "Rufus is the shotgun expert."

"Rufus doesn't give Honoria the time of day," Kit said, taking off his glasses, and polishing them with his tie. "Lazard's become quite friendly with her since the wedding – and the president's pleased. They're quite the family unit. You should read the gossip magazines."

"Not my thing," Reno told him, but his eyes were brighter, and he suddenly felt a lot less sleepy. "Leave that to Dana – she gives us all the essentials. She loves all that celebrity crap, though she won't admit it. But maybe while we're in Junon… I wonder if Rude would go for it? He reads n' shit. So, what – you think Lazard's trying to push Rufus out?"

"Well, the press can't say anything directly, of course – although Lazard's birth is pretty much an open secret. But they're calling him 'The Apprentice'. And the president can't mind too much, or he'd put a stop to it. Lazard's certainly acting like the ideal son at the moment. As far as I know he has no interest in hunting – but he's doing a good job of pretending to like it. If Rufus wants to make sure of becoming VP he should get back to Midgar and start sucking up to daddy."

Reno shook his head. "Rufus doesn't do sucking up. He can turn on the charm when he wants to, but if he disagrees with someone he lets them know about it." Reno grinned. "'S one of the few things I really like about him."

Kit frowned. "Well – he should be careful, is all I'm saying. Lazard may not be legitimate, but he's older, and a whole lot closer to the President – and his wife – than Rufus is. You seem to be in charge of Rufus' security at the moment; I'd say this qualifies as a security issue – at least from Rufus' perspective."

"Hey – hold on! I ain't in charge of shit! Lex is in charge – then Rude, _then_ me."

The elevator stopped, and the two Turks crossed the lobby and entered the oddly silent D.A.R offices. Kit looked at Reno, eyebrows raised. "It doesn't go by seniority," he said, quietly. "You must've worked that out by now? Lex and Dana have both been Turks longer than Tseng… You keep being assigned to Rufus for a reason, Reno. Just – keep that in mind."

"Veld told you to tell me this?" Reno asked, various connections forming rapidly in his brain – all of them connected to warning bells. Kit only smiled. "Would I tell you if he had?"

"Huh. Thanks for the heads up, anyway."

"You're welcome." Kit walked back the way they'd come, leaving Reno apprehensive, but no longer at all sleepy, outside Veld's office.

x-x-x

Rufus flung open the door and was back at the piano before Lex could enter the room. He turned a baleful expression on the Turk as Lex moved closer.

"_What_?" Rufus demanded. "I'm here, aren't I? I'm not planning any more escape attempts, if that's what you're thinking. Do you really have to come in every…" Rufus paused to check his watch - "Every half an hour? It's distracting."

"What are you doing?" Lex enquired mildly.

Rufus shot him a look of pure, teenaged contempt and made a staccato gesture at the piano with one hand. Lex wanted to laugh, but only said, "Well – I'll leave you to it then," and left the room quietly.

Outside in the corridor, Lex sat on the grey plastic chair that had been put there since Rufus had absconded and Veld had decided that round-the-clock surveillance was the safest option. With Reno in Midgar, that meant six-hour shifts, alternating with Rude, of nothing but keeping an eye on Rufus – or at least the door to Rufus' apartment. Lex didn't really mind. He could hear the piano even with the door closed. Rufus didn't seem to be practising – he played short phrases; repeated them; made changes and linked them into longer sections. Lex was no expert, but he'd escorted Lucia to hundreds of concerts, operas and ballets over the years he'd been her bodyguard, and this music was nothing he recognised. Was Rufus composing it himself? If so, it was very good, as far as Lex could judge... Julius Shinra ought to be proud. Lucia would have been.

People who didn't know her had sometimes accused Lucia of being cold – but that had never really been true – especially at the start. She had been so much in love with Julius during that first year that Lex had never thought to look at her as anything other than the President's devoted wife. He'd been struck by her beauty at once – but he was hardly unique in that. No – it was later – some time in the next three or four years – observing the slow growth of her understanding that Julius did not love her – never really had apart from a brief infatuation with her film-star incarnation right at the start: that was when the coldness had begun to creep over her; that was when Lex had begun to think of her with sympathy, and then with more than sympathy.

Lex wasn't sure when Lucia had found out about Lazard – she'd never mentioned it to him, of course. But over time she'd somehow frozen into a caricature of herself. Occasionally Lex had observed brief thaws – usually when Rufus was home for the holidays. But even then, Lucia only allowed herself short periods of time with her son: a daytrip here, an afternoon there. Lex never knew whether it was because she feared seeing him becoming more and more like his father, or because she was afraid to let herself grow close again, knowing that separation was inevitable - but he understood that, up until she met Lee Gale, Rufus had been the one person in the world who could melt the ice enough to make her smile as she had done during that first year; as she had done on the day her son was born.

The sound of the piano had ceased. Lex opened the door silently and saw that Rufus was kneeling on the floor using the piano stool as a table, writing feverishly on manuscript paper with a pencil that looked about half the length it had been two hours ago. Closing the door again, Lex returned to his chair.

In his wallet was a laminated photograph – slightly smaller than a credit card – of himself, Lucia and Rufus, then aged about seven, on a trip to Junon to see a Shin-Ra air show. He didn't take it out – hardly ever did any more. Having faded and creased over the years, the image now existed more clearly in his mind than in reality. He knew every detail of the scene – Lucia's face radiant as she gazed down at Rufus who was immaculately dressed in a white suit, complete with waistcoat and tie. The boy was looking excitedly into the sky, pointing off to the right somewhere: Lex remembered that there had been an airship he'd been fascinated by. Because of his memories of that day, Reno's account of Rufus' indifference to the space programme in Iselheim had surprised Lex. Seven-year-old Rufus had been so enthralled by the idea of flight…

In the photograph Lex, in uniform, walked beside Lucia, and his head was turned towards her, listening to something she'd been saying about Rufus. A young woman who, judging by her old-fashioned clothes and local accent appeared to have come up from the fishing village below the town, had been taking pictures with a hand-held instant camera that must have been years old even then, selling the photographs for ten gil each. She'd approached Lucia, and Lex had intercepted her automatically, but the girl had only smiled and said, "Buy the picture, Sir? Memory of the day. You have a beautiful family. Your little boy looks like you." Too astonished to reply or to deny anything, Lex had taken the picture, watching as it developed slowly from blank paper, to a ghost image, to a perfect memento of a moment from another life in which Lucia and Rufus belonged to him. Lucia had glanced at the photo, laughed, and said, "Buy it, Lex. Rufus looks such an angel in that suit, and he'll soon be too old for me to dress him up anymore."

Lex had obeyed, and, on their return to the Junon apartment he had printed himself a copy before giving the photo to Lucia. He didn't know what had become of the original, but for a year or two a scan of the picture had been displayed in a frame in the family's apartment in Midgar, cropped so that the image only showed Lucia and Rufus. Sometime before Lucia's death it had disappeared.

Concerned that his behaviour was becoming obsessive, Lex had resolved never to do anything of the kind again. He'd kept to his resolve: he'd also kept the photograph. He had suppressed any signs of his feelings for Lucia so successfully that he was certain she had never guessed. He had been a dutiful and professional bodyguard. But from that day he'd begun to think of Rufus as a sort of surrogate son. He'd had little to do with the boy as he'd grown up until that holiday in Costa del Sol where Rufus had almost been killed – twice. The second time – the jet-ski incident – had been his own fault; it had been stupid to allow Rufus to try something so dangerous, as Veld had made clear in no uncertain terms. But Rufus had been so enthusiastic about the plan – and his smile had been so like his mother's – that Lex's judgement had deserted him.

Hours drifted past. Rufus was playing the piano again – long sections of something elegiac - soft and melancholy. It sounded to Lex too full of regret for a boy as young as Rufus to have written it – but perhaps he was merely imbuing it with his own mood. It was not the memory of Veld's anger that made him feel such remorse, but the thought of how disappointed in him Lucia would have been had she known of Rufus' danger.

x-x-x

Reno wasn't surprised when it was Tseng who opened the door to Veld's office. Over the last four years it had become clear that Veld regarded Tseng as a kind of unofficial mentor to Reno, although, when he'd asked Rude about it, Rude had merely shrugged and said, "Maybe. I suppose Dalton was like that, for me." Rude had only mentioned his former partner a handful of times over the years, and Reno had never asked him about it. From Kit he'd gleaned that Dalton had been killed in an accident caused by a drunk driver just outside Junon – nothing to do with Shin-Ra or Turk business. "Even Turks can die by chance," Kit had commented. "Sometimes the bullet with your name on it is just – wrong place, wrong time."

Dalton had been, according to Dana, a generally pleasant, calm man of a similarly quiet disposition to Rude, but given to occasional outbursts of anger. Reno had never seen a photo or a file, although he was sure they'd be available if he chose to look. It seemed somehow disrespectful. By unspoken consensus dead Turks were left to rest in peace – not forgotten, but not much talked of either.

"Come in, Reno," Tseng said. Reno couldn't judge his mood, and, as he entered the office, glanced towards the long desk in front of the windows to sneak a look at Veld's expression. Shock was swiftly followed by relief, and then unease, when he realised that the stern Commander was nowhere in the room.

"Boss not here yet?" Reno asked.

"No – he's occupied elsewhere. I'll be dealing with this," Tseng replied. "Have a seat, Reno." He gestured to a group of chairs arranged around a low coffee table rather than the solitary one standing in front of Veld's desk.

_What's he doing?_ Reno wondered, and the alarm bells Kit's words had triggered were suddenly ringing more loudly in his head. _Is this supposed to put me at my ease? 'Cause it's not working! Shit Rufus – why am I about to lie for you? Not like I owe you anything. You've made it pretty damn clear what you think of me – and it ain't much – so why the hell am I covering your ass and putting my own on the line? When did this job get so fucking complicated? _

Although Reno much preferred to sit with his back to the wall where he could see the exits, this time he chose a chair that faced away from the windows so that he'd have a clear view of Tseng's face, while, hopefully, obscuring his own somewhat. As soon as he was seated he began to worry that Tseng would read exactly those motives into his choice. He ran a hand through his hair, and then cursed himself for betraying his nerves in such a rookie fashion.

"Would you like coffee?" Tseng asked. "You can't have had much rest since yesterday."

"Uh – no – I mean, yeah – yeah coffee – no, not much rest. Thanks," Reno gabbled. Shit. What was _wrong _with him? This situation wasn't nearly as dangerous as his last visit to Veld's office, when he'd found out the truth about Lee Gale's assassination. Hell – Veld wasn't even _here_! Why was he so jumpy?

Tseng only nodded, walked to the intercom on Veld's desk, and asked the secretary to bring coffee. Reno watched him, noticing that there was an open file on the desk and wondering what it contained. Then he thought staring at the file might look suspicious and dropped his gaze to his hands, hoping that he didn't appear as nervous as he felt.

Taking a chair at right angles to Reno, Tseng asked, "Good flight?"

"Slept a bit. Rather fly myself, but – Boss was right – I'd've been too tired."

A knock on the door signalled the arrival of the coffee. Tseng watched with interest as Reno flirted automatically with the young and attractive secretary. Despite the nerves Reno was clearly trying to conceal, it seemed that he just couldn't help himself – the instant smile, the eye contact – such behaviour seemed hard-wired into him. Tseng, who had never had the slightest use or aptitude for flirting himself, wondered whether this ability had a genetic basis. Certainly in Reno it appeared to be innate and instinctive; he didn't seem aware that he was doing it at all.

When the secretary had left, closing the door quietly behind him, Tseng asked, "How was Rufus after Sacha Domino's concert?"

It was none of the questions Reno had been anticipating, and it threw him off balance, as Tseng had doubtless intended that it should.

"Ah – he was fine. Tried to explain the music to me. Seemed impressed by Sacha's playing."

"Why do you think he took you? You have no interest in classical music, do you?"

"Hell no! Told him he should take _you _next time. Guess I was on duty, is all."

Tseng said, "But Lex was on duty too – for the first half of that evening. Rufus must have made the choice to take you." Reno felt the ground shift – didn't know where these questions were going – didn't like it at all.

"Weird choice. He knows I know fuck all – uh, sorry – I mean I don't know anything about that stuff. Told him so myself."

"So why do you suppose he asked for you?"

Reno shrugged. "Beats me. Probably wanted to make a point about my lack of education. He loves doing that." Reno surprised himself with the bitter tone of his last remark, and Tseng raised an eyebrow. "And you resent that?"

Reno considered. "Yeah – I guess," he said at last. "Kid's okay, you know? But he's so… stuck up. Acts like it's some kinda crime not to know the same shit he knows. No one else does that – _you_ don't - Veld – none of the other Turks. Maybe Hojo – but he looks down on _everyone_, so that don't count. Rufus acts so damned superior – it winds me up, I admit it."

"And he wound you up after the concert?"

"Yeah – I guess. But it wasn't serious."

Tseng gave Reno a level look. "You called him a 'stuck up little shit'."

"What – he complained about me?" Reno made no effort to hide his contempt.

"He would have been within his rights, if he had. But, no. It was in the driver's statement – we asked him to report after Rufus went missing."

Reno realised that, of course, Rufus would never report him behind his back. It wasn't the kid's style. No – if Rufus had a complaint he'd let Reno know about it – show him the email, or make him listen to the phone call. Really, the kid wasn't so bad.

"Do you think your argument was a factor in Rufus' decision to leave the building unattended to go and see Sacha?" Tseng asked.

"No!" Reno replied, automatically. Then he thought about it – remembering Rufus' silent anger in the car – those terse emails. "Well," he conceded, "I guess it didn't help. But this stuff with Sacha's been going on since school – I think he'd've gone anyway."

"I'm not so sure." Tseng's expression was calm, but a subtle edge of steel crept into his tone, and Reno's pulse jumped at the warning. "I think, if you hadn't acted as you did, Rufus might have asked for your help in visiting Sacha, instead of putting himself in danger by running away. Your behaviour was childish and unprofessional."

Reno looked at Tseng, and the furious denial that had instantly ignited in him died. He'd been wrong to think this meeting would have been worse with Veld present. Veld was fierce and prone to explosive anger – that was a temperament Reno understood. Tseng, by contrast, was quietly relentless.

"Yeah," Reno agreed, albeit with some reluctance. "Yeah – it was. I shouldn't let him get to me. But _someone_ has to tell him when he's being a pri – uh – a pain in the ass - or he's gonna be a brat his whole life." Suddenly understanding his own motivation more clearly, Reno added, "He's a good kid, you know? Underneath it all. But - maybe the Boss should send someone else. Kit says Dana's 'unflappable'."

Tseng said, "Veld's considering that - bringing you and Rude back to Midgar – sending Kit and Dana to Junon. How do you think Rufus would react to that?"

Reno's laugh was harsh. "_He'd_ most likely be relieved. He thinks I'm stupid - ignorant and – yeah - unprofessional…"

"And you'd be relieved – to be back here? Back on the Hyde case?"

Ten minutes ago Reno would have replied, "Hell yeah!" to that question. But he hesitated, surprised at himself, before answering: "No… I'm okay in Junon."

Tseng only nodded, reaching forward to stir his coffee. Reno picked up his own cup and drank, grateful for the break. Something about Tseng's quiet intensity unsettled him, and he found himself feeling sorry for the poor suckers who wound up facing him in an interrogation cell. Tseng sat back in his chair, leaving his drink on the table, and asked, "Did Rufus sleep with Sacha Domino?"

That _was_ a question Reno had been expecting, and he managed to keep his posture relaxed as he set down his cup and replied in an unhurried fashion, "There was bedding on the couch. I think it was more that Rufus missed Sacha after that fight they had at school – wanted to clear the air. Sacha has a boyfriend."

"None of which answers the question."

"All I can tell you is what I saw. Sacha – yeah. I think Sacha had a thing for Rufus at school, and most likely still does. For Rufus I think it's all about the music. But even if they _did_ – don't mean much at that age. Felicity – Sacha…" Reno shrugged.

"Don't be naïve Reno. It may not mean much to _you_ –" Tseng glanced towards the open file on Veld's desk, and Reno's eyes fixed on it at once – "But Rufus' position is… delicate. Do we need to eliminate Sacha Domino? Is he a security threat?"

"No," said Reno, serious and emphatic. "No. Whatever happened – or didn't – he won't talk. And he's about the only real friend the kid's got. Anything happens to him, Rufus'll know it was us."

"Does anyone else know that Rufus spent the night in Sacha's apartment?"

"No." It was the first outright lie he'd told his superiors since joining Shin-Ra. For Theo Levin's sake – Sacha's and Rufus' – but most of all his own – Reno hoped he'd made it convincing. As if as an afterthought he added, "A few people must've seen him at the Academy, but I don't think that's a problem."

"What about the boyfriend?"

"He wasn't there. They don't live together. Sacha won't talk."

"You're sure?"

Reno looked at Tseng. "Yes," he said, firmly. "Sure."

x-x-x

Rufus opened the door. He looked tired, but there was an almost feverish light in his eyes that emphasised their blueness more than ever.

_Gaia, he's so like her!_ Lex thought, getting to his feet at once. "Rufus? Are you okay?"

"Yes – fine. I wondered…" The boy seemed unsettled – nervous even.

"What is it?"

"I've written something – for Sacha. Yesterday… It was all still there, Lex. The music I used to play – the music I used to compose. It's too late for me to play professionally – unless I had time to practice forever – but I can still _write_. I'd like… would you listen to it?"

"I'd be honoured." What Lex felt at that moment was something he had no words for, but if he'd ever been a father he would have recognised it.

Rufus was arranging sheets of hand-written music into two piles. "I'll play the tune through the piano part as much as I can. It's for cello and piano, of course. I should've bought a violin when I got the piano – although I'd be even rustier at that! I can hear the strings in my head, but it's not quite the same… Still, you'll get the overall idea, I hope." Rufus set the loose sheets of the piano score in front of him and sat on the piano stool, glancing back at Lex. "You don't happen to read music?"

"Sorry, no."

"Never mind. I'll just play the first movement –the whole thing's quite long."

"Play it all. I'd like to hear it."

"Really?" Rufus' smile was tentative – his tone incredulous. Lex thought, _No one's ever had any time for him – not for years._

"Yes," he said, sitting on the low couch near the piano. "I'm listening."

x-x-x

"Reno - if Rufus were attracted to you, do you think you'd know?"

Reno laughed aloud – unfeigned and unembarrassed. "_Rufus_? You're kidding, right? C'mon Tseng – I already told you what he thinks of me!"

"Yes – but are you sure you'd know?"

"I guess. I can usually tell."

"So – Sanderson, just now, for example?"

"Who?" Reno wondered where in Gaia all these questions were headed.

"The secretary?"

"Oh – well – yeah, he was interested. But, you know me, Boss – tend to go for girls."

Tseng glanced over at the file on the desk again, and replied, "_Tend_ being the operative word."

Reno followed the direction of his gaze and understood. "Oh – right." Reno met Tseng's eyes without a trace of embarrassment. Flying and sex were the two areas of his life about which he felt completely confident. Ever since that night with Jesse more than four years ago, Reno had gained a wealth of experience – mostly, but not exclusively, with women. Sex was pure recreation to him – no big deal. No one so far had meant more than Jesse had. Thinking about it, no one had come close to meaning as much. But then, Reno didn't spend a lot of time thinking about it.

"So – who you got in there?" Reno asked, gesturing towards the file.

"An Adam Turner and a Tony Rossi."

"_Two_? Well – good to know you don't waste too many company resources keepin' track of me. Don't remember Adam. Saw Tony a couple of times. It's not a problem, is it?"

"Not at all, as long as you're not trying to hide anything that could put you at risk of blackmail attempts. And if you don't wish your encounters to end up on file, I'd suggest pursuing them rather more discreetly. Keeping them outside the building would be a good start."

"Point taken," Reno replied, unabashed. "But what's any of this got to do with Rufus?" His eyes narrowed as a suspicion began to take shape in his mind. "What's your concern? Even if he _did_ turn out to be gay, you can bet your life I'd be just about the exact opposite of his type." Reno's expression grew stormy as he thought he understood the purpose of Tseng's line of questioning. "C'mon Tseng! You can't think I'dbe thatunprofessional? 'Cause even if he wasn't an irritating kid with a superiority complex – he's my _job_. Yeah – I was out of line – the way I spoke to him after the concert. I'll get that under control. But I never looked at him like _that_ – never even _thought_…" Reno shook his head, incredulous. "He's just a kid," he finished.

Tseng said, "No – you misunderstand. Our concern is merely to ensure that if Rufus does turn out to be gay – if he confides in you, for example - you'll react appropriately. The last thing we need is for him to feel he can't trust us."

"And what would an 'appropriate' reaction be?" Reno asked. "You'd want me to lie, and say it's all fine? You know what the President would think. He'd most likely sign the whole damn company over to Lazard on the spot."

"And does that bother you, Reno? After all, Lazard has a background much closer to your own than Rufus does. Lazard doesn't look down on people from the slums. Why should you care if the President makes Lazard Vice President rather than Rufus?"

Reno had to think about that, but he found that he _did _care. "It's all he wants," he replied at last. "If the President chose Lazard over him, I think it would – I don't know… crush him. Rufus is… proud. Arrogant. Demanding. Stuck up – I ain't takin' that back. But – kid's sharp, and he's got balls. The way he got a handle on Space Research out in Iselheim. The way he behaved all through that assassination attempt in Costa. What you said in your report after the helicopter attack – 'calm under pressure'. Kinda _fearless_. All I know is, I don't like this talk I'm hearing from Kit about the press calling Lazard 'The Apprentice'."

"There are some concerns over Lazard's motives," Tseng said. Reno waited, but Tseng didn't elaborate.

"So – what do we do?" Reno asked. "Will Veld persuade the President to bring Rufus back to Midgar?"

"Not immediately. Especially not while there's any doubt over this question of his sexuality. I think Lazard underestimates the President's belief in tradition. The fact that Rufus is his legitimate heir is a huge point in Rufus' favour when it comes to any competition between him and Lazard. No, Reno – I think Rufus should finish his stay in Junon as planned. I'm going to recommend to Veld that you, Lex and Rude stay out there with him for the time being. Just make sure there's no repeat of yesterday. I've read Lex's report on the way Rufus hacked the security system – he's better with computers than we ever realised. Lex is upgrading the system, but don't trust Rufus not to be able to hack the new one. Keep a closer eye on him, and report everything he does. Another Felicity would be useful – we know that the President approved of that relationship."

"Right. So – business as usual?"

"For the moment, yes. But don't antagonise Rufus – and don't let his attitude affect your work. It wouldn't hurt to make Rufus aware of the Lazard situation, if he isn't already."

"Yes, Sir."

Tseng gave a slight, brief smile. "All right, Reno. Get some rest, and then go back to Junon first thing tomorrow. You're cleared to fly."

"Will do, Boss – thanks," Reno said, trying to look relaxed as he made his way to the door. The meeting had been – strange. He'd expected blame for Rufus' physical escape – not for being the cause of it. He'd expected the discussion about Sacha – but not the stuff about his own proclivities. The whole thing felt weirdly _personal_ – left him feeling uncomfortably exposed. Why _did _he care whether or not Rufus got to be VP? He had nothing against Lazard - the man had only ever been civil to him. It wasn't a Turk's job to takes sides in the internal politics of Shin-Ra – only to carry out the President's orders.

In the lobby Reno's finger hesitated over the call button for the elevator. He owned a small apartment at the top of a four-storey building with a convenient bar on the ground floor, near the centre of Sector five. He figured it must be almost directly above the block in the slums where he'd lived as a child, although he'd bought it because of the bar, and the views across the plate all the way to the Shin-Ra building. That – and the fact that, two years into the job, Rude had pointed out that he _could. _The idea of owning property had never occurred to Reno until that point: since moving up to the plate he'd been renting a small studio apartment similar in size and layout to his childhood home, if somewhat better furnished. But truth be told, Reno didn't spend a lot of time in his apartment anyway. It was a useful place to take girls – or whoever – although he was as likely to end up at their places. But it had never really felt like home.

Reno pressed 'up'. No point trekking half way across Five when there was a perfectly good bed available up on the sixty-fourth floor, here in the Shin-Ra building, at the centre of things. This was the one place Reno really felt he belonged – and the more he thought about it, the more he was sure that Rufus belonged here, too – not stuck out in Junon away from the action.

_Hang on in there, Kid,_ he thought, watching Midgar falling away below him as the newly restored elevator with its supposedly machine-gun-proof glass rose rapidly up the side of the building. _One day you'll be coming home. Can't have a Shin-Ra without a Shinra, yo. _It wasn't a sentiment Reno would have suspected himself of harbouring, but now that he'd expressed it to himself it felt intuitively _right_.

x-x-x

"So – that's it," Rufus said, flexing his fingers and turning to give Lex an uncertain smile.

"It's amazing," Lex said, sincere, but wishing he knew enough about music to give Rufus any kind of considered criticism. The boy was desperate for an audience – that much was clear – and filled with a passion to communicate that had nowhere to go – the air was practically fizzing with energy. All Lex could think of was, "Your mother would have been so proud. She always said you had a genuine talent."

"Did she?" Rufus' eyes were fixed on Lex's face. "Did she really say that?"

"Yes. Often."

"She said it to you?"

Lex nodded. "Yes."

"Did you know her well, then?"

Lex looked at Rufus, wondering how to reply. "I was only eighteen when I met her," he began. "One of my first jobs as a Turk was as part of her security detail – a few months after she married your father. She was twenty-four – your father was forty-six. A lot of people said it was too much of an age-gap – but she was very happy. I remember the day you were born. She said it was the happiest day of her life."

"Did she?" Rufus shook his head. "I remember so little about her. I never thought she was happy."

"Well – perhaps not, later," Lex admitted. "But _you_ always made her happy. Do you know Pinochi's Prelude in D_b _major?"

"Of course," Rufus said. "_Rain_. I have the music here somewhere – it's one of the pieces I bought this morning. I learned it once – for an exam."

"She loved that. I think she heard you practising it one summer? You must have been eight or nine. When you went back to school she used to listen to it all the time. That part at the end – when the storm's over? She –"

"What?" Rufus prompted.

"She once said… something about how peaceful it made her feel – peaceful but also sad. Something about longing for… I don't know. An ending? Rest."

"Ah, yes," Rufus said, with a little smile Lex didn't quite like. Rufus began to play – the end of the prelude they had been discussing – and as he played he said quietly, "I think that life is like this: we believe that we live for the storms – the passion –while all the time something in us yearns towards oblivion. Oh - the inexpressible longing for _rest_!" He stopped playing abruptly, his hands falling into his lap. Lex stared at him. "How could you know that? That's what she said. The exact words."

Rufus didn't look at him as he replied, "It's from one of her more melodramatic films - _Remembrance_. I watched them all, after she died – but that one, most. She looked most like herself in it. But she was never herself – she was _always_ playing a role. You're right – she would have been proud of me if she could have seen me on a stage, playing the piano under a spotlight. But she never wanted to be with me."

"She did. You're wrong."

Rufus turned to face Lex. "She hardly ever saw me – even in the holidays. She wasn't working by then – she had time."

"I think she was afraid to get too close to you. Every time you had to go back to school, she had to lose you again."

"No – that wasn't it."

"Yes. Look –" Without thinking of the consequences, Lex took the faded photograph from his wallet and handed it to Rufus. Rufus stood up slowly, and turned towards the window, studying the picture. "I remember that day," he said. "There was an airship…"

"Yes. And your mother was so happy. You see - the way she's looking at you?"

"Hmm."

"She loved you, Rufus."

"I don't…" Rufus didn't know what to say. He didn't understand what was the matter with him at the moment – he'd resolved never to cry in front of an inferior – his mother had taught him that, if nothing else – and yet tears kept threatening. Resorting to anger, he turned on Lex, thrusting the photo back into his hand. "Why do you have this, anyway? What – you had some kind of pathetic crush on my mother? That would explain why you see her as such a saint! As if a Shinra and a Turk –" Rufus shook his head with a grim smile, no longer caring about protecting his mother's reputation. Lex was wrong. She'd never loved him. Deliberately he added, "Or - was my father right about her all along? Were you one of a whole series of affairs she had? Were you the first?"

Lex looked at Rufus, and for a moment Rufus really thought the Turk was going to hit him. But then Lex lowered his eyes, looking down at the photograph in his hands, and said, "No. I don't know what your father told you – but, no. I loved your mother." Lex inhaled sharply, then continued, "That's the truth. Yes – it probably was a 'pathetic crush'. She never knew anything about it – and even if she had… But _I_ would never have put her in danger like that. I always understood what it meant to be a Shinra. Your father - is not a forgiving man, Rufus. You should remember that."

Rufus stared at Lex, and Lex realised at once that he might have said too much. But Rufus only nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "I will." He sighed then, and walked back to the piano, gathering up the music he'd written for Sacha. "I'm sorry, Lex," Rufus said, his voice quiet. "I shouldn't have said that. It wasn't pathetic. I'm glad – that someone loved her."

"She did love you," Lex said. He wanted to talk to Rufus – to work out exactly what the boy was thinking – what he might, or might not have understood – what his father had told him. Did he know about Lee Gale? Was that possible? Or had his father only hinted at infidelities as a way of turning Rufus against his mother? "Rufus –" Lex began, but Rufus shook his head.

"I – need to get this finished properly. Written up, so I can send it to Sacha. He can play it with Theo – his partner. He's a pianist, so I've heard. I wonder whether he's any good?"

Taken aback by the sudden change of subject, Lex could think of nothing to say. Rufus looked at him and Lex could read nothing in his eyes.

"If you don't mind?" Rufus said.

"Sorry. Yes. I'll – be outside, if you need anything."

Rufus opened the door, and Lex found himself back in the corridor, Rufus' door closed quietly, but emphatically, behind him.

Rufus placed Sacha's sonata carefully on top of the piano, went to his desk and opened his laptop, his movements automatic, his mind still reeling from the sudden, horrified understanding that had come to him with Lex's words: "Your father is not a forgiving man."

Rufus had no doubts at all. All he needed was proof. He didn't ask himself whether it was possible that his father could have given the order – that the Turks would have carried it out: those things were already certainties. He remembered a grey, calm sea – Veld's words to the reporters. Normally, Veld would have been with Lucia on that flight to Junon, of course. It hadn't occurred to Rufus at the time – poor, stupid kid, blinded by grief – but it was obvious. Not one of the Turks had been with her - only some apparently expendable security guards and two pilots. What had the Turks done? Set the bombs, and waited, safe in Midgar. Lee Gale – conveniently dead in Wutai – most likely killed before he ever got there. Tseng – so kind, on the day of the memorial service – knowing all the time… Veld must have given the orders. Had Rude's strong fingers made the bomb that killed her? Had Tseng worked out the timings – the precise moment the helicopter would have been over the Junon Trench where things stayed hidden forever - irrecoverable? Had Lex, despite his so-called _love_, followed his orders regardless? Did they all know?

Did _Reno _know?

Reno hadn't even been a Turk, then. But did he _know_?

Rufus remembered his faltering confession of his mother's affair in Iselheim – Reno's seeming sympathy. Had that all been an act? Had Reno instantly put two and two together, confronted Veld and been let in on the whole secret? _Don't tell Rufus_. Or did that go without saying?

Or – even worse – had Reno known all along? Was it something they told the new recruits – _this is the kind of thing we do. No one can ever know – especially not Rufus. He has to believe in his father – he has to _become_ his father – keep the mako flowing. (Or, if not Rufus, Lazard. Heir and a spare. Doesn't matter which.) But keep them busy for now – let Lazard play with the SOLDIERS – let Rufus play with his puppy! _

Rufus' fingers flew over the keys, searching. There had to be something – something they'd failed to cover up – some detail they'd missed. When he'd been setting up his escape from the building he'd created false programs – constructed access routes he thought even the Turks wouldn't be able to trace back to this computer, and he used them now to explore old files and circumvent security. At six, having found nothing, he shut everything down and went to dinner as usual. Rude was on duty, so there was no need to say much, but Rufus had to stop himself from looking at Rude's hands and wondering.

On the way back to his rooms Rufus passed through the lobby, stopping to pick up Dark Nation from Lenny, who walked her on afternoons when Rufus was busy. Rufus spoke briefly to the security guard, appearing perfectly at ease as far as the Lenny was concerned, but Dark Nation could sense that something was wrong. She pressed her solid flank against Rufus' legs and butted her head against his hand, whining softly.

Back in his rooms, Rufus sat at his desk and searched on through the night. Dark Nation was sleeping, curled up on his bed. Every so often she would wake, raise her head and give him a questioning little whimper – but he only glanced at her through the open door and said, "I'll be there soon. Go back to sleep." It was near dawn when he found what he was looking for – a seemingly innocuous memo telling Lex to assign a member of security to escort Lucia to Junon while he was to 'take care of the Wutai delivery'. But Rufus had checked through the records. Either Veld, Lex or Dana had accompanied his mother on every journey she had made in the five years preceding her death. The memo was dated the day before she'd died - or, rather, the day before she'd been_ murdered_ - on the orders of his own father, by people Rufus had been raised to trust with his life. Rufus stared at the memo, wondering why he didn't feel more of a sense of shock.

_This is how it works_, he thought. _This is what they do. Anyone who opposes _him_, or does something he doesn't like… And the Turks don't ask questions. They can have been part of your life for years – they can claim to love you – and when the order comes… _

_ Reno would kill me, if my father ordered it. He probably wouldn't even be all that sorry. Lazard would run the company – Reno would prefer that anyway. _

_ I can't trust any of them. And I told Sacha _he _was naïve about politics! _

Rufus understood immediately that there was only one possible future for him now. _I have to take it all, before that bastard takes it away from me, _he thought, erasing files; disposing of evidence. _How can he even call himself my father? My whole life he's done nothing but take away the things l wanted. My music. Sacha. My mother. I'll kill him – for her – for myself, and the Turks won't stop me, because they won't know anything about it until it's too late. _

Rufus shut down the computer, and went to the bedroom. Dark Nation lifted her head and her yellow eyes followed him as he went to the closet and reached to the back of a drawer to retrieve something.

Rufus sat on the bed, staring down at the phone in his hands – the phone Sacha had given him in their last five minutes together, when Reno had been out of the room. Dark Nation whined, shoving her head against his arm. Rufus patted her absently, frowning. No one knew about the phone. It was an untraced link to the outside world – if only he could think of a way to use it. Somehow, he had to make contact with the one person on the planet he was sure hated his father as much as he did: Mallory Hyde.

Perhaps Sacha -? No. He'd put Sacha in enough danger already. He couldn't see Sacha again – couldn't ask him for help. He couldn't trust anyone except himself – that was clear.

Rufus told himself that he hoped Veld kept Reno in Midgar. He didn't want to look at him, knowing what he now knew – wondering whether Reno knew it too. Didn't want…

Wanted.

Dark Nation laid her heavy head in Rufus' lap. He stroked her short, soft fur, his head bowed. "Good girl," he whispered, "good girl, good –" and words dissolved suddenly into bitter, helpless tears - tears that solved nothing, and brought no relief.

x-x-x

The helicopter cleared Midgar's gloomy halo of cloud and lifted into the bright, untainted blue that always made Reno smile. This morning he was flying without a co-pilot – a rare and valued pleasure. Turning the chopper in a wide arc, Reno set a course for Junon. He found that the prospect of a few more months in Rufus' company wasn't so bad.

_ Almost kinda missed him, _Reno thought, watching the precise line of the coast slipping away behind him as the helicopter headed out over the sea. _Reckon the kid's growing on me. Who'd've guessed?_

* * *

**Thanks for reading.**


	23. Chapter 23

**Thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, favourited and stuck with the story so far. **

**On we go, at last. **

* * *

**Chapter 23**

Reno wasn't pleased to be back in the cold steel and concrete hallway outside Sacha Domino's apartment. He balanced on the balls of his feet, Rufus' carefully wrapped package under his arm, waiting for Sacha to answer the door. He knew Sacha was alone – he'd hung around outside for nearly two hours, shivering in the cold morning air, until Theo Levin had left the building. Theo had headed off along the road in the direction of the Opera House, where, according to Reno's intel, he was currently employed as the pianist for a new operatic production of _Loveless_. Reno rolled his eyes. As though the _play_ hadn't been bad enough! At least Rufus had been scathing about the whole enterprise, so it was unlikely that Reno was going to be dragged along to that particular performance. Thank Gaia for small mercies. Theo had been walking briskly, hands in the pockets of his worn black coat, taking long strides, whistling. Reno guessed that meant Sacha was following Rufus' instructions, which was just as well. As far as he knew Tseng had accepted his word that Sacha wasn't a threat in need of elimination – but the final call lay with Veld.

Impatient, Reno rang the doorbell again, the sleeve of his grey hoodie pulled over his hand so as not to leave prints. No need for that really – but such precautions had become automatic over the years. Reno pulled the hood forwards, making sure it covered his hair. His tattoos were concealed, and in his threadbare jeans and old trainers, he was pretty sure he'd be unrecognisable on the security cameras. He was a little startled when Sacha, hair still wet from the shower, opened the door, took one look at him and said, "Oh. It's you. You'd better come in."

Reno closed the door behind him, and pushed back his hood. "Surprised you recognised me."

Sacha didn't reply to that, but his mouth twisted into a bitter smile for a moment, before he asked, "What do you want?"

"Rufus sent me to give you this." Reno held out the flat package. Sacha made no move to take it, regarding it warily as if he thought it might explode.

"What is it?"

"Music. He told me to tell you that he hopes you'll play it sometime." Reno hesitated before adding, "With Theo." Watching that go home, Reno felt like he did during a hit. Sacha had that frozen look on his face – the look a mark got when he realised that Reno wasn't kidding – this was the end.

Wordlessly Sacha took the package and ripped it open, letting the brown paper wrapping fall to the floor of the otherwise spotless apartment. Reno watched as Sacha read through the first page of music, wondering at the way some people could look at written notes and transform them into music in their heads. Yet another thing Rufus probably expected everyone to know. But no – mustn't think like that. _Don't antagonise Rufus, and don't let his attitude affect your work_, Tseng had said, and Reno was determined to try.

Sacha was still reading, taking each sheet of music from the pile as he finished it, and sliding it underneath the stack, keeping the order. "Oh," said Sacha softly, to himself, "He used it like that! I would never have thought –" He continued to read, and Reno let him, oddly reluctant to interrupt. All the wariness and doubt had vanished from Sacha's face; he was somewhere else – entirely absorbed. The expression was familiar to Reno – it was the one he'd seen twice before, once in Costa del Sol and once during Sacha's concert – both times when Rufus was watching Sacha play. There was that same mix of total focus, wonder, and a faint edge of envy – a kind of longing. For some reason Reno found himself thinking of Iselheim and Cid Highwind. _Have to get back there_, he thought, remembering Cid's offer to teach him to fly that turboprop. There hadn't been time, since. _One day_, Reno promised himself.

At last Sacha looked up. "He wrote this? He wrote all this – since he was here?"

"Yeah. Lex said it took him all afternoon yesterday."

"He wrote this in one afternoon!" Sacha shook his head. "Have you heard this?"

"Me? No. I think he played it to Lex. You know – on the piano."

"He has a piano? Here?"

"Yeah. Got it yesterday."

"Oh – that's good! He's not – I mean, do you think he'll carry on, now – now that he's started playing again?"

"I don't know. But look – you remember what I said? You two can't see each other – you do _get_ that, right?"

"Yes – but if he comes back to music – there's Lazard, for the company –"

Reno shook his head, the movement sharp, definite. "No. Not gonna happen. Rufus is going to be president of Shin-Ra. Get it into your head – save yourself the grief. Why d'you think he wrote you that, huh?" Reno gestured to the manuscript in Sasha's hands, finger pointing like a gun.

"What do you mean?"

Reno looked at him. _Shit, Rufus_, he thought, _next time you want me to destroy someone, just tell me to fucking shoot them. _He'd worked for Shin-Ra - for _a _Shinra – long enough to recognise a payoff when he saw one, but he had no idea how to tell Sacha that.

Before he could say anything, Sacha was talking, looking at Reno with something suspiciously like pity.

"I see what you're thinking – but you're wrong. You think this is a – some kind of _goodbye_ –

- _One word for it_, Reno thought.

- "But it's not like that. I _do_ get it. I'm not stupid. I see what this looks like to you: some kind of teenaged infatuation. But you don't know… you don't know everything. I know Rufus doesn't love me."

That did surprise Reno. "I'm not sayin' _that_," he began, "Only that you two can't see –"

"He doesn't," Sacha said firmly, cutting Reno off. "Maybe he thinks he does, but –" Sacha gave Reno a strange look then – his mouth half smiling, but pain obvious in his eyes. "But what he _does_ love is music. I've been thinking about it a lot. I considered what would happen if I told Theo –"

"Tell me you didn't. Shit – are you _trying t_o get yourself killed?"

"It's okay, I didn't. Of course I didn't – I don't want to put him in danger, like you said. But I had to think it all through." He held the music towards Reno. "You see this as Rufus easing his conscience – telling me it's over. But you don't understand. This is – more important than anything physical. This is – this is the _best _of Rufus. This is what he can be. I can't influence him directly any more if I can't see him – but you can."

"_Me?_ He won't listen to me – even if I knew what the hell you were talking about."

"I think you do know. And he will listen. He – looks up to you."

Reno scoffed. "You got that wrong!"

Sacha shook his head. "No. He'll listen to you. Please, Reno, promise me you won't let him give up music again. I know he'll have to fit it round all the other stuff he has to do – learning the business or whatever – but he can't give it up."

"You're the one who don't get it," Reno said. "I don't have that kind of influence over him. Believe me, he's not gonna do anything on my say-so. I'm a Turk – his bodyguard. That's as far as it goes. Look – Sacha – I'm sorry about all this shit Rufus landed you and Theo in, but you have to forget about it, and get on with your lives."

"Yes, I know. But Rufus can't give up music. It's all I want for him. I can give him up, if I know he has that, you see? Promise you'll try."

Reno was getting antsy. Shit, these musical types were so intense! A promise to _try _– which in Reno's book pretty much equalled no promise at all – was a small price to pay to have this lousy assignment over with. "Okay, okay," he said. "Whatever. I'll try. Any message for him, before I go?"

"Yes. Tell him to keep playing – to keep composing. Whatever else he does. Tell him –"

"Yeah?"

"Tell him this is great. Not great as in really good – great as in 'great art' – seriously. It has to be performed – people have to hear it. I'll work on it – get a performance together. Ask him if he wants it anonymous, or under a pseudonym, or in his own name. I'd prefer the latter, but I understand there might be problems with that."

"You think?" Reno asked, automatically sarcastic. Then he considered what Sacha had said. "You really believe it's that good – the stuff he wrote? Not just because of – you know – you and him?"

There was a mixture of sorrow and pride in Sacha's voice as he replied, "I don't know what he'll be like as president of Shin-Ra, but as a musician he has real genius. I wish he had someone there – at Shin-Ra – who understood that; who valued it."

"Yeah," said Reno, thoughtful. "Guess it does kinda suck for him, sometimes. Reckon that's why he gets so pissed when I don't get it – all that classical stuff."

"It does kind of suck," Sacha agreed.

"You get him, don't you?" Reno said. "I don't know if anyone else does."

"Well, _you_ could try harder," Sacha told him. His tone was light: his expression serious.

"Yeah. You're – not the first person to tell me that," Reno replied, thinking of Tseng. "I gotta go. I'll tell him what you said."

He turned to leave. Behind him Sacha said quietly, "Look after him."

Reno only nodded, not looking back.

x-x-x

Over the next few weeks Rufus began to realise that contacting Mallory Hyde was not going to be easy. His successes with hacking the security systems had made him overconfident; he'd believed at first that diligent searching of the WN would be sure to yield some leads the Turks had missed, but so far he'd found nothing at all. The only other plan he could think of was to make himself a deliberate target. It would be very dangerous – but if he could lure one of Hyde's operatives into another assassination attempt and the Turks captured him or her, then Rufus was fairly sure he would be able to find an opportunity to sneak into the detention cell unobserved. He had no doubt that he'd be able to get some sort of contact set up in that case – the offer he had in mind would surely be irresistible to any anti-Shin-Ra group. All he needed was a contact number – a location – a name. _Something_.

That goal in mind, Rufus had started attending concerts at the Junon Symphony Hall and the recently built Genesis Opera House, on an almost weekly basis. He established patterns as subtly as he could, usually, but not always, alternating between the two sites, and frequently, but not exclusively, patronising performances of orchestral music. Lex had tried in vain to persuade Rufus to make these visits secret, as his trip to watch Sacha play had been. Rufus had been eloquent in his rejection of that idea.

"I only went to see Sacha like that because I'd argued with him at school, and I didn't want to get involved in all that again. It's not as though I was afraid of terrorists. I want to support music while I'm in Junon – it's something I believe in. I _want_ people to see me. A future president ought to have a positive public profile. Anyway, it's time I started meeting people here – making contacts."

Lex hadn't pointed out that when mixing with his father's friends had been suggested to Rufus at the start of his stay in Junon, he been contemptuous in his dismissal of the idea. Instead he'd sighed and said, "All right. If Veld clears it. But security's going to have to be watertight. We'll try it once, to start off with."

Rufus had picked his first performance very carefully – an opera he knew his father liked, on a day Genesis himself was attending. With both Rufus and the famous Soldier First Class in attendance, security had been extreme; Genesis had arrived with what seemed like half of Public Safety Maintenance, although the chances of an assassin being able to inflict any real damage on a First before being apprehended had seemed minimal to Rufus. To gain his father's approval, thereby increasing the pressure on Veld to allow these excursions to continue, Rufus had invited the daughter of a local dignitary to accompany him. As expected, her picture had appeared all over the press the next morning, and "The Planet's Most Eligible Bachelor" had been considered as good as married immediately. Rufus had been pleased – if every performance he attended garnered this much media attention, Mallory Hyde would hardly be able to avoid noticing that his enemy's son was making regular public appearances.

After nine events in three months, however, an anxious Rude raised the subject at a morning briefing, held, as usual, on the landing outside Rufus' rooms, while he was inside showering and getting dressed. "I think Rufus is putting himself at risk, going to all these concerts," he announced, without preamble. "We still have no new leads on Hyde."

Reno looked at Rude, thoughtfully. They'd been working together for a long time now, and he knew that Rude was neither over-cautious nor alarmist. To tell the truth, Reno had been growing increasingly uncomfortable with each performance Rufus attended: only his promise to Sacha to encourage Rufus to continue with music had prevented him from speaking out already. "Yeah," he agreed. "It's getting too predictable. I don't like it either. He should lay off for a while – be more selective."

"Reno – I know that accompanying Rufus to these performances isn't exactly your idea of a good night out," Lex began. Reno turned on him, stung. "What? You think _that's_ why I'm worried? C'mon Lex – you know it's a risk. An' it's a growing risk. Hyde could be anywhere – we have fuck all to go on. I'm with Rude – Rufus should quit for a while."

"All right," Lex conceded. "I'll talk to him. Rude – you need to be back on duty at midday. Reno – you start at six."

Rude's, "Yes, Sir," and Reno's, " 'Kay, yo!" made Lex smile, as they walked away along the corridor. Funny how two such different characters could make one of the most effective teams Lex had seen in a long time, only rivalled by Freya and Kit, who had been working together successfully for nearly seven years.

Lex knocked, waiting for Rufus' quiet, "Come in," before he opened the door. The boy was already seated at his desk. The laptop was on, but the screen showed only a view of Midgar with the Shin-Ra logo superimposed – the factory wallpaper setting. Dark Nation, curled on the floor beside Rufus' chair, raised her head and looked at Lex, which was more than Rufus did.

"Good morning, Rufus," Lex began. "We need to discuss the concert you're scheduled to attend next week."

Rufus turned to face Lex. "All right. As long as you're not going to tell me I can't go."

"Actually –"

"No. This one's non-negotiable. Sacha and Theo are playing the piece I wrote. You don't have to worry – no one knows I wrote it, as we agreed. It's anonymous."

"That's not the point. We're all concerned that you're putting yourself at risk. Your appearance at these events is becoming too predictable."

There was a barely concealed note of irritation in Rufus' tone as he replied, "Well – nothing's happened yet, has it?"

"No. But you've already attended one concert in public where Sacha was playing – and a whole recital by Theo. Anyone watching your movements would be able to predict your interest this time."

"Sacha played _one_ piece in that concert, and there was hardly any press presence at Theo's recital – he's just not that well-known, yet." Rufus waved an imperious hand. "Anyway, there's no point in discussing it. I'm going, and that's that. We can talk about future performances afterwards. This is the first time anything I've written has been performed in public – you can't honestly expect me to miss it!"

"I don't think it's a good idea," Lex said. "We can contact Sacha – ask him to rearrange –"

"No," interrupted Rufus. "It's an entire concert. My sonata is just a part of it, at the end of the first half. Sacha had a programme sent over from the academy. They've been rehearsing for weeks – I can't ask them to reschedule on my account. After this one, I'll stop for a while."

"It's making you vulnerable to attacks," Lex said.

"There's no reason I should be especially vulnerable this time," Rufus replied, growing angry. "Sacha and Theo are only playing that piece, and there's no one really famous performing. Honestly, it's not a major event. If anyone knew I'd composed that sonata I suppose there would be press everywhere – but as it is, people will assume it was written by a student at the academy – maybe Sacha himself. The way I see it, this will be about the safest performance I've been to yet. That first one with Genesis, and the Gaia Symphony last month – those were seriously high profile." Rufus hesitated. "Anyway, I want –" He stopped abruptly.

Lex looked at him. He still wasn't sure whether Rufus had inferred anything from his warning, more than three months ago, when they'd discussed Lucia and Rufus had played him the composition - but since then the boy had treated him with a polite distance. It was rare for Rufus to express a strong desire to do anything, except for these visits to musical performances. "Go on," Lex prompted, gently.

Rufus coloured, and when he ran his hand through his hair, Lex was already waiting for the familiar gesture. "I – I want to see how the audience takes it," Rufus said. "It's the only thing I've ever done that's just _mine_. If they like it, I'll know it's because there's some – some value in it, that's not to do with my name, or who my father is." He gave a little, doubtful smile, and Lex suddenly realised that Rufus was genuinely uncertain of his talent. "If they don't like it – well, then at least it will be a real response from people who wouldn't dare to criticise a Shinra." Rufus made no further appeal – would never deign to ask directly – which was a part of why Lex found it impossible to refuse him.

"All right," Lex agreed. "But this has to be the last one, for now. After this, as you say, we'll rethink your public appearances."

Rufus didn't smile, only inclining his head with that natural grace he'd inherited from his mother. "Thank you, Lex," he said, sincerely, which was as much gratitude as Lex had ever received from any Shinra, and as much as he had ever hoped for.

x-x-x

"Thought we'd agreed this wasn't happenin'," Reno said, when Lex outlined security plans for the concert at the next day's briefing. The three Turks were seated around a small table in the secure meetings room. Lex squared his shoulders, prepared for Reno's challenge and Rude's obvious disapproval. "Yes," he agreed. "But after discussion with Rufus I've decided to allow this last appearance, given the relatively low public profile of the event, and the fact that Sacha and Theo are playing the piece Rufus wrote."

Rude shook his head. "I don't like it. The fact that Sacha was at school with Rufus is public knowledge. If Hyde's still interested in Rufus as a target, he'll know that."

"Yeah," said Reno, slowly. "Although – guess it means a lot to the kid that they're playin' his stuff, right?"

Lex looked at Reno, surprised. "Yes," he said, grateful for the unexpected support. "I think it means more to him than he'd ever admit."

"It's too much of a risk," Rude said. Reno glanced at him, torn. He trusted Rude's judgement completely, and his partner's concerns chimed with his own gut instincts – but since his conversation with Sacha, Reno had been making an effort to take more of an interest in Rufus' music. Not that the kid seemed to appreciate it. Ever since Reno's return from Midgar, Rufus had been coldly polite, but, reflecting on Tseng's words and his own behaviour, Reno reckoned he probably deserved that. Unused to analysing his own motives, Reno stayed silent, as Lex made the final decision. "We'll tighten up security. Rufus will be armed. We'll have members of PSM at every exit. I'm making this call – I'll take any consequences. After this, we'll discuss whether Rufus should make any more public appearances of this kind at all."

An hour later, after they'd put in place every detail of the security plan, Lex left to relieve the guard who'd been on duty outside Rufus' rooms. Rude tidied away files from the table, not looking at Reno as he asked, "So – you're okay with this?"

Reno shook his head. "I'm – not sure. It feels dangerous, but, like Lex said, it'll be the last time…"

"_It feels dangerous_?" Rude echoed. "Listen to yourself. This is a bad idea. You know it is."

"Maybe. But it's happening now. We just gotta – stay alert. Hope nothin' happens."

"_Hope_?" Rude gave an incredulous snort, and Reno realised that his partner was really angry. He said nothing more on the subject, however, and Reno kept quiet, trying to ignore the uneasy feeling in his gut caused by Rude's uncharacteristic vehemence.

x-x-x

Rufus sat through the first hour of the concert feeling unusually nervous; much more so than he'd used to feel at school before performing music. He had no doubt about his technical ability as a pianist – it was one thing he was certain he could do well – but hearing his composition performed by others was an entirely different proposition. Lex sat beside him in the box, listening to the musicians with inexpert but genuine appreciation.

Rufus had deliberated with himself about asking for Reno to be his bodyguard for this concert, but there had been no obvious justification for it, especially in light of the Turks' concerns about security. Lex was the senior Turk. Rufus was sure that, if he'd made enough fuss, he would have been allowed Reno, but in the end he'd decided against it. Ever since Lex had unconsciously let slip the truth about his mother's death, Rufus had wavered between doing his utmost to avoid Reno on the basis that it was probable Reno did know about the Turks' role in that crime, and wanting him near – giving him the benefit of the doubt. Sometimes Rufus managed to persuade himself that only those Turks who had been personally involved in the operation would have known about it, in which case Reno was innocent – if the idea of an innocent Turk wasn't laughably oxymoronic. Rufus still wasn't sure which scenario he actually believed – only which one he longed to be true.

Besides, Rufus had told himself, watching Reno's reaction to the performance could be nothing but a disappointment. At best he would be indifferent – at worst he would _try_ – he seemed to have been trying harder recently – and his baffled incomprehension would be worse than any amount of scorn. Rufus remembered Reno's reaction to the excellent performance of the Gaia Symphony they'd watched the last time he'd been on guard duty – his chirpy, "Yeah – it was – good!" an unconvincing contrast with the way he'd surreptitiously yawned all the way through.

Rufus' eyes flicked up to the top-most box on the opposite side of the Junon Symphony Hall. Its blue velvet curtains were closed, concealing Reno, who had a sniper rifle trained on Rufus' box, watching through a telescopic sight.

Rude was seated at the end of a row at the back of the stalls, near the exits. Every exit in the building was guarded by a blue-uniformed member of Public Safety Maintenance. Rufus' own handgun was concealed beneath his white jacket. He'd started wearing white to these appearances precisely because it made him visible. The popular press had started calling it his 'trademark white', and Rufus had no objection to raising his public profile, particularly after Reno had handed him a pile of magazines with titles like _Look Now!_ and _What's Hot_ – and pointed out Lazard's insidious, smiling presence on their garish, glossy pages.

Rufus shifted, uncomfortable in the heavy bulletproof vest Lex had insisted he wear. The senior Turk had also made him equip his gun with a barrier materia, and had handed him a Phoenix Down feather "just in case". All these precautions seemed unnecessary to Rufus. He hadn't been lying to Lex when he'd called this concert low profile, consisting mainly of students from the JMA and local performers. It was looking increasingly likely that he was going to have to think of some other way of contacting Mallory Hyde, or, failing that, some way of moving against his father himself.

As he listened to a competent young violinist who, he suddenly recognised, was the girl he'd met at the academy – Laura? No, _Leah_ – Rufus contemplated asking Lex to help him. Would it be possible to persuade Lex to move against the President? It seemed clear that Lex had loved Rufus' mother, but he'd also almost certainly been involved in her death – or, at the very least, the plot to kill her lover. Had he known they were going to kill Lucia as well? Had it never occurred to him to warn her – to try to prevent it? Rufus glanced at Lex, wondering. He wasn't sure whether or not Lex realised that he'd given away the Turks' secret – he thought most likely not. Did Lex feel any guilt over Lucia's death? Could that be used to convince him to act against Julius Shinra? Overall, Rufus felt it was unlikely. Lex was a Turk – had remained a Turk in spite of all that had been done. No – if Rufus even hinted at rebellious thoughts, Lex would probably report straight to Veld.

Sometimes Rufus entertained satisfyingly violent fantasies of marching into his father's office and blowing his head off with a shotgun. But the result of that would be his own death at the hands of security or the Turks, and Lazard would step calmly into father's place, with a sorrowful shake of his head at the thought of his poor half-brother's tragic instability. The image of Lazard sitting in his father's chair behind that absurdly proportioned desk, smiling his polite, reasonable smile made Rufus feel sick.

No – Rufus needed an outside agency, which would strike against the targets he chose, while he built his power inside the company, waiting for the right moment to take over. He closed his eyes for a moment, imagining Midgar at night, viewed from above, as it looked when approaching the top of the Shin-Ra tower by helicopter – each of the reactors exploding into volcanic fire one after another, as his father watched helplessly from the eyrie of his office while the source of his power burned around him… And then? Then it would be Rufus' turn.

Leah finished playing and the audience applauded warmly. Rufus, joining in, felt a surge of nervous excitement as Sacha and Theo took their places on the stage.

x-x-x

The waitress who brought the interval drinks was a pretty brunette who smiled shyly at Rufus as she pushed open the door of the box, balancing a tray of glasses and an open bottle of champagne in a silver ice bucket. She was accompanied by a member of Shin-Ra security, who took up his position at the back of the box, unobtrusive and silent. Still uncharacteristically flustered by the strength of the audience's reaction to his composition, Rufus watched the girl pouring the drinks, then took two crystal flutes and handed one to Lex. "I know you don't, on duty," Rufus said, with the most open smile Lex had seen from him in months, "But just this once? I feel like celebrating."

Lex returned Rufus' smile, unable to hide his pride in the boy's achievement. He raised his glass to Rufus, about to congratulate him, when, to Rufus' left, the waitress gave a startled cry. She had set down her tray on a small table at the back of the box, but as she'd picked up the bottle, ready to refill the glasses when needed, it appeared to have slipped from her grip. The heavy bottle thudded dully on the thick carpet and rolled a little way, spilling a thin trail of liquid and froth.

The girl was already on her knees, righting the bottle, staring up at Rufus with a stricken expression. "I'm so sorry, Sir. It just slipped out of my hands. I –"

"Oh – don't worry about it," Rufus said, kneeling to pick up the bottle, "Accidents –"

It took him a moment to register that the object in her hand was a gun, inches from his face, and to realise that, in their current position, they would both be out of Reno's line of sight.

"Nobody move," the girl said, softly, "Or I'll shoot him in the face." Behind Rufus, Lex froze.

"Do exactly what I say, and no one needs to die," the girl said, her voice calm. "This is a kidnapping, not an assassination. Turk – keep silent. Mr. Shinra – stay down, remove your weapons, and put them on the floor in front of you." Rufus obeyed, his mind and his heart racing. He found that his principal emotion was not fear, but anger. How had this girl managed to get a gun past his security? Was Mallory Hyde behind this, or a different group entirely? This was not what he'd planned for - the Turks were supposed to catch these people! Still – no need to panic. It was a long way to the exit. Surely Lex or the security guard would regain control of the situation before this girl could get him out of the building?

The girl used her free hand to slide Rufus' gun across the carpet in the direction of the guard.

Oh – of course. The guard was in on it, too.

"That's your only weapon?" the girl asked. She kept her voice very low, no doubt assuming, correctly, that Lex was in constant contact with other members of Shin-Ra security.

"Yes."

"All right. Now – you're going to get up, go to the table and pour another drink, take your seat, and ask me to join you. Then we're all going to relax until the lights go down for the second half, which is when we move. If anyone tries anything, my colleague will detonate the grenade in his right hand –" Rufus and Lex looked across at the security guard, who opened his hand just enough to reveal the top of a device that certainly looked as though it might be a grenade of some kind; it was impossible to be sure. "While that wouldn't be our preferred outcome," the girl continued, "It would still achieve some of our aims. Be assured that we are prepared to die for our cause, if necessary. Now – Mr. Shinra, if you please…"

Rufus followed her instructions, glad that his voice was steady as he stood up, moved to the table, and asked, "Would you care to join me?"

The girl slipped her gun back into the pocket of her apron before she got to her feet. She smoothed down her skirt, looking convincingly embarrassed. "Oh I –"

"Please," said Rufus, surprised at how calm he felt, "I insist."

Rufus handed her the glass of champagne he'd just poured and looked out across the auditorium, wondering whether there was any way of alerting Reno or Rude, but the girl was watching him closely. Rufus assumed that the girl had been telling the truth about the plan being to kidnap him – if they'd wanted him dead she'd already had the opportunity to shoot him point blank. The only option was to continue to follow her instructions, for now.

Reno felt his pulse slowing as he watched Rufus pass the waitress a glass of champagne. He'd been worried for a moment there – when the girl had dropped the bottle and Rufus had vanished from view to retrieve it – but everything seemed fine. Lex was watching the proceedings unmoved, and if Rufus' smile looked a little fake, that wasn't surprising. A waitress was hardly likely to impress the President, so Reno assumed that Rufus had asked her to join him on a whim, as part of his strategy to convince the world that he was straight. If that was the kid's plan, it would help if Rufus at least _tried_ to seem interested though! He was looking at her less like a potential conquest and more like someone he was trying to intimidate in a board meeting. Reno's grin became a grimace as the orchestra began tuning up for the second half. Rufus' stuff had been all right compared to the rest – the audience seemed to have appreciated it anyway. But surely that was enough for one day?

Through the telescopic sight, Reno's sharp eyes scanned the box again, but nothing seemed untoward. The girl was certainly pretty – shame it was wasted on the kid, really. Maybe being forced to attend all these classical gigs might have some compensations after all? Reno wondered when the girl got off work. There was something about her that reminded him of Jesse – not her face – but her serious expression – all that long brown hair… Although, thinking about it, that was strange. All the staff he remembered seeing at these events – ushers, bar staff, box office staff – always had their hair tied back. But maybe it was different for the President's son? Or maybe not. Reno spoke softly into the microphone attached to his headset. "Boss? Everything okay?"

Lex looked directly towards Reno's hiding place and shook his head minutely. At that moment the houselights went down, and for a second Reno could make out nothing but shadows in the box opposite him – shadows that were moving rapidly. Reno saw a flash of light as the door at the back of the box opened – and then the box was empty.

"Shit – Rude – we have a situation!" Reno said, keeping his voice low, grabbing the rifle, stand and all. "They've all left the box – I think it's the waitress. Get to the second – no – third exit at the back – I'll go round by the street – it's quicker from here."

"I'm on it," Rude replied. "Reno – contact security. No one leaves the building except you."

Reno ran for the stairs, issuing urgent instructions into his headset as he went. The guard at the first exit Reno reached pushed open the door, recognising the Turk. "No one else in or out," Reno told him, dashing out into an alleyway that ran all the way along the east side of the building. The alley was empty. Reno looked left and right, trying to decide. _Okay – assume they want him alive – or it's already too late…_ Reno pushed away that thought and the nauseous feeling that accompanied it. _So – kidnapping. They'll have a car. _To the left was the main entrance on one of the busiest streets in Junon – they'd be crazy to try to take Rufus out that way. There were a dozen side streets behind the concert hall where they could be waiting. _Find the car – find Rufus. _Reno turned right, and ran, heading for the back of the building.

As soon as they were in the corridor, the man dressed as a Shin-Ra security guard took Lex's gun and held it to the back of his head. The girl grabbed Rufus' arm, pulling her own gun from the pocket of her apron, and jamming it under his right ear.

"Walk," she said, nudging him with the gun. Rufus did as she told him, surprised when they passed two flights of stairs, before taking the third – a narrow set of concrete steps descending into shadows. When they reached the bottom of the steps a guard moved forwards, about to challenge them. The girl removed the gun from Rufus' neck and shot the guard neatly through the centre of his forehead. Rufus gasped, stumbling as the girl pushed him past the obstacle of the guard's body. He couldn't help staring at the crumpled form as the girl pushed open the fire escape; he'd never seen a dead person before – never seen someone die. It wasn't like in films – no shouting – hardly any blood – just – alive, then dead – like flicking a switch.

"You – killed him!" Rufus exclaimed, unable to help himself.

The girl didn't reply, staring at the empty road at the end of the narrow alley.

"Where's the car?" she cried, pushing Rufus along the alley, away from the door. Looking back, Rufus' saw the fake security guard give Lex a hard shove into the alley, before turning to slam the heavy fire door closed.

The girl called back to the guard, "They're not here! We'll have to go on foot." As she spoke the staccato crack of rifle fire echoed off the high walls of the surrounding buildings followed the percussive pop of a smaller weapon. The girl let go of Rufus, aiming the gun straight at Lex.

"No!" Rufus cried, acting instinctively, grabbing her arm. They both felt the kick as the gun went off – heard the flattened bang of the suppressed weapon – saw the guard slump back against the door. Panicking for the first time the girl lashed out at Rufus, punching him hard in the face with her free hand. He staggered, but remembered his combat training. Managing to keep hold of the arm that held the gun, Rufus twisted it with all his strength forcing the girl off balance, but instead of resisting she rolled with his throw, the momentum breaking her free of his grip. The gun was still in her hand.

"For Avalanche!" she cried, aiming at Rufus' head. Rufus heard a shot – then another. The girl fell forward, Lex's bullet in her back. Dazed, Rufus saw a Shin-Ra guard running towards him along the alley. He looked back towards Lex who was staring at him, looking shocked. Looking –

No. Rufus wiped blood out of his eyes – whose he wasn't sure – and ran towards Lex, but before he got there someone knocked him to the ground, and he felt a gun against the back of his head.

"Oh dear," said a calm, male voice. "Things haven't exactly gone to plan, have they?"

"Mallory Hyde?" Rufus asked.

"I used to go by that name, yes. My real name's Fuhito. You're proving expensive to kill, Rufus Shinra."

"I – I thought this was a kidnapping?"

"That was the intention. However, since one of your Turks disabled our car before I shot him – I'm afraid this is now an assassination."

"Wait! Don't. I mean – there's something –" Rufus' mind wouldn't function. _Which Turk? Is Lex -? I had a plan – I was supposed – this wasn't supposed –_

"I'll fund your cause!" Rufus heard himself saying, clear over the churning chaos in his head. "I can give you all the information you need to hit Shin-Ra where it hurts."

"What? Why would you do that?"

"Because I want my father dead as much as you do." Rufus turned to look at Hyde – _Fuhito_ - but the man's face was completely hidden by the helmet of his Shin-Ra Department of Public Safety uniform.

"Why?"

"My own reasons. What do you have to lose? If I'm telling the truth you get financial backing and inside information – if I'm not, you can always kill me on another occasion."

Fuhito raised the visor of his helmet, and gave Rufus a penetrating look. He was younger than he'd appeared in the photograph they'd found in Iselheim. His dark eyes had an uncanny intensity.

"Security will be here any minute," Rufus pushed. "There's a piece of paper in the breast pocket of my jacket. A phone number – a direct link to a clean phone. Think about it. Contact me. Don't leave messages – wait until I reply. I'll use the code name 'heir apparent'."

"You had this planned?"

_Not like this! Which Turk? _

"Yes," Rufus said, forcing himself to sound calm. "I expected something of this kind."

Fuhito gave a strange, breathless laugh that reminded Rufus of Hojo. He placed the muzzle of his pistol against Rufus' jaw, and reached into his jacket for the phone number. Thrusting the folded paper into his own pocket, he stepped back, keeping the gun trained on Rufus.

"You're not what I expected," Fuhito said. "I'll think about your offer." He surveyed the carnage in the alley and his mouth quirked oddly in a kind of bitter amusement. "Humanity!" he scoffed. "What a waste of resources!"

Rufus said nothing.

Fuhito flipped down the visor, and walked away. "Enjoy the rest of the concert!" he called.

Rufus found that he was shaking. He got to his feet, stumbled back down the alley until he reached the door, where Lex lay motionless, blue eyes still fixed on the place where his final target had been standing.

"Lex? Lex. I'm sorry. I didn't think – Don't be dead!"

At the end of the alley someone was shouting, "Over here!" Was that Fuhito? Cunning – to call the others, blend in with other Public Safety officers, then slip away unnoticed. But – which Turk? Even if it _was_ him – even if he'd been shot – they'd get to him in time wouldn't they? There was always - Oh – wait – "Wait!" said Rufus aloud to Lex's body. "There's – I've got –" He pulled the golden feather Lex had given him that morning from the same pocket in which he'd kept the phone number, and laid it on Lex's chest. Nothing happened.

"Come on!" Rufus shouted, shaking the feather, pressing it against Lex' body – crushing it. "Work!" As he did so, he felt something under his hand – a very slight change in the texture of Lex's jacket. Something there… The same part of Rufus' mind that had managed to speak rationally to Fuhito directed his actions, and he remembered the photograph. Before he had time to consider what he was doing, Rufus took the picture from the inside pocket of Lex's jacket and slipped it into his own. As he did so, he noticed the small, bloody hole at the base of Lex's throat where Fuhito's bullet had entered. Although he had no real hope of it working, Rufus laid the phoenix feather over the wound.

Then there were people everywhere, and Rude's voice – _Rude_ - saying gently, "Rufus – it's too late. Phoenix Down doesn't work like that."

Rufus looked up at him, wild-eyed, and his voice was anguished as he cried, "Rude! Does that mean – is he dead?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so. Rufus – we need to get you back to the Shin-Ra offices. He lowered his chin, speaking into the microphone of his headset. "Reno? Rufus is all right. Yes – it was the fifth exit. Get them to bring the car round."

"Reno?" echoed Rufus stupidly, weak with relief. He shut his mouth abruptly, realising how much he'd almost given away, replaying Rude's words in his mind.

"You're in shock," Rude told him. "Stay where you are. They're bringing the car. You're safe now."

Rufus nodded, suddenly aware of how short of breath he was. His mouth was horribly dry. He couldn't swallow.

Rude's hand was warm on his shoulder. "Deep breaths," Rude said.

Rufus nodded, trying to inhale slowly. "I'm all right," he said. "But – Lex –"

"I know. Here's the car."

Rufus looked up – saw the long, black limousine at the end of the alley, and someone running towards them carrying a rifle. _Reno_. Rufus got to his feet and took a step towards him before he checked himself, astonished at the force of his yearning to touch – the violent intensity of his emotions at seeing Reno alive and apparently unharmed. _Sacha was right_, Rufus thought. _I do love him!_ _But – I can't._

Reno stopped in front of him, looking oddly relaxed. "Okay kid?" he asked with incongruous cheer.

Rufus could think of nothing to say, but words were unnecessary in any case, as Reno looked past him, his smile fading as he took in Rude's expression, Lex…

"Shit no!" Reno moved towards Lex's body, but Rude shook his head. "Get Rufus back to HQ. I'll deal with things here."

"Yeah – sure – uh – right. Right." Rufus couldn't remember ever having seen Reno so thrown by anything. Reno turned back to him, his face grim. "C'mon kid. Are you injured?"

"No – no. I'm – fine."

"All right. Good. Let's go."

Inside the car Rufus felt a weird sense of disconnection as he watched the narrow alley disappear behind them. "What – what time is it?" he asked.

Reno didn't seem to find the question strange. He checked his watch and replied, "Nine fifty seven."

The whole incident had taken not much more than ten minutes. Inside the building the concert would be continuing, none of the audience aware of anything amiss.

"Sacha –" Rufus began. Reno misread his concern. "Don't worry. No reason he should have been a target. I'm sure he's fine." Reno leaned back in the seat for a moment, his hand over his eyes, before turning back to Rufus. "What the hell happened?" he asked.

Rufus experienced a moment of near panic as he realised he had no way to account for Lex's death without mentioning Fuhito. Then he saw that he didn't have to try to explain. "I – I'm not sure," he said. "It was so quick. The girl – the waitress – she had a gun – and the security guard said he had a grenade. The waitress – she just shot the guard on the door – in the head. They got us outside, but their car wasn't there. She – she tried to shoot Lex, and I grabbed her arm, and she killed the other one – the one pretending to be a guard - by mistake, then she was going to shoot me and there were two shots. Lex killed her. I think there was someone else – at the end of the alley – I couldn't see. And Lex was dead. I tried the Phoenix Down but –"

"No," said Reno, "It was too late. If he died instantly, magic of any kind would be useless. You did all you could. If I hadn't stopped the car – Shit! I must've run right past you. Must've been seconds before they opened the fire door. I just assumed they'd take you out by the nearest exit – right behind the box."

"That's what they wanted you to assume, I suppose."

"What a fucking mess! Lex – what a fucking _stupid_ waste. This is my fault."

Rufus shook his head. "No – mine. I was so determined to go to this concert. Lex didn't want me to, but I talked him into it."

"I went along with it, when I knew it was dangerous," Reno said. "Rude was right – he was against this from the start. You're not to blame. We're the ones responsible for security."

"I _feel_ responsible," Rufus said.

"Don't. This is our job." Reno sighed. "Poor Lex, though. Bullet must've missed the vest. I was lucky – that's the only difference."

Rufus felt suddenly dizzy. "Why? What happened?" he asked, trying to block out the thoughts that flooded his mind – _if I'd decided to ask Reno to stay with me it could have been Lex here, and Reno lying in that alley – so easily could have been_ –

"I thought they'd take you out by the third exit," Reno was saying. "I ran around the building – right past where you actually were – and there was a car approaching – just approaching the third exit - on the road that was meant to be closed for security. I had the rifle – I shot out the front two tires – but the car kept coming. Someone shot me from the window – off side, back. Vest took the impact, but it knocked me on my six - winded me. The car stopped – someone got out and ran, shooting back at me – missed. Car took off again – skidding like crazy, turned right, down a side road. I followed – thought you might already be in it, or the driver would've run, too. Finally caught up with it – driver was dead. Must've taken something. No one else in the car. I ran back fast as I could – but I was still on the way when Rude called, an' it was all over. Wasted too long chasing the wrong guy. Shit!"

"You had to make a call," Rufus said. "On the information you had, it was the right one."

"Yeah – only it was the wrong one."

"You couldn't have known."

Reno's expression was bleak. He stared down at his hands. "My job to know. The guy who ran from the car – he must have been the one at the end of the alley you were in. The one who shot Lex."

"It could have been someone else. We don't know how many –"

"Forensics will be able to match the bullet to the one in my vest. This is –" Reno spread his hands helplessly – let them fall back into his lap.

Rufus could think of nothing to say.

They were approaching the Shin-Ra offices when Reno said, "He saved my mom's life once. Years ago. Him and Veld. It was the first time I ever saw a Turk."

Rufus heard himself replying, "He was a good man," but his first impulse - the bitter, unworthy thought that crossed his mind before he could cut it off – was: he saved _your_ mom's life? But he didn't save _mine_.

The thought shocked Rufus – the fact that he _could _think it, when he was at least partly responsible for Lex's death. _What's wrong with me?_ Rufus wondered. _I don't – feel things properly. I want –_ For an instant Rufus had a vision of himself abandoned to his wants – flinging himself, sobbing, into Reno's arms – confessing everything – his knowledge of his father's crimes – his contact with Fuhito – his stupid, hopeless love –

He had to stop himself from laughing aloud. _Be sensible_, Rufus told himself. _You can't be afraid of thoughts._ _Looked at in the right light, things have worked out well tonight. Lex was the only one who had any reason to suspect that I know about what my father did. I've made contact with Fuhito. Lex would be glad that I have a way to avenge my mother. The audience loved_ –

But that thought, Rufus did manage to push away. Music was separate – beyond the actions circumstances had conspired to force him to take. The concert already felt very distant, as though it was an event remembered from long ago, some time during his childhood. He would not allow himself to connect it with anything else that had happened tonight. Would not allow it.

x-x-x

Rufus stroked Dark Nation's soft head, sitting on his bed in the dark and staring through the window into the night. Outside the room he could see nothing but the bright, white arc of the illuminated harbour and the distant red and green navigation lights of a ship heading out over the ocean. He'd turned on the phone Sacha had given him, although he didn't expect Fuhito to contact him immediately. Rufus ran his fingers through hair still damp from the shower he'd taken to wash the blood from his face and hands. His nose was swollen where the girl had hit him, and he was going to have an impressive black eye, so Reno had said, but nothing was broken.

Once Reno had checked Rufus' injuries and made him drink a potion, he had gone to the office to call Veld. Technically, Rufus supposed, that was Rude's job, as the senior surviving Turk in Junon at present, but Reno had insisted. Rude would be somewhere in the labs in the basement, where all the bodies had been brought: the guard who had been shot inside the concert hall, the waitress and her colleague in the Shin-Ra uniform, the driver of the car and Lex.

_Avalanche_, Rufus thought, remembering the girl's words as she'd tried to shoot him – before Lex's final bullet saved his life. The name was an apt one. He remembered the official fates of Alice Mortimer and Simon Payton – smothered beneath the snow at Icicle Inn. Was that what had given Fuhito the idea for the name? Well – Rufus had his own uses for Avalanche now. His father would be swept away by Rufus' vengeance. What else he would choose to bury, and what to save, he hadn't decided yet.

At some point Rufus must have fallen asleep. He woke to darkness and the sound of music – his own music – someone quietly humming part of the slow movement of his sonata, outside the door. Opening the door softly, Rufus was surprised to see that it was Reno on guard duty.

"Rufus? Is something wrong?" Reno looked exhausted. He clearly hadn't had time to change; there was a neat hole in his shirt where Fuhito's bullet had passed through into the vest beneath.

"I heard –"

"Sorry. Got this tune stuck in my head – don't know why. Kinda – nice. I'll stop."

"No – it's fine. I'll – just – go back to bed."

"Night. Try an' get some sleep."

Rufus lay staring into the darkness, Dark Nation a heavy, comforting presence, slumped across his feet at the end of the bed. After a while Reno started humming again. Rufus almost smiled, until he remembered Lex, and the photograph that now lay at the back of the same drawer in which he had hidden the phone. He closed his eyes. No point dwelling on what had happened – it was done. There would be an investigation of course – reports, forensics, details, questions and recriminations. None of it would make any difference, as long as Fuhito took the bait and called. Rufus would give him all the information he needed to avoid detection – and all the money he needed to strike at Shin-Ra. Now there was nothing to do but wait.

* * *

**Thanks for reading. I'll try not to make the wait too long. **


End file.
